Hunger Games Sunset Book 1
by Lady Raksha
Summary: "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, to remind the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, each district will hold an election to select the tributes that will represent it." Falon Dawnson is on her final year of the reaping, but will make a decision that may very well cost her life.
1. The Vote

**The Vote:**

"On the twenty-fifth anniversary, to remind the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, each district will hold an election to select the tributes that will represent it."

I realize my mouth is opened slightly as the words sink in. It's not enough that we have to send twenty-four kids into an arena to fight to the death. Now we have to choose which children to send into that hell. Anger isn't a strong enough feeling for what I feel right now.

The rebellion that President Galba spoke of ended before I was born, yet they still punish us for it. Every year one male and one female between the ages of twelve and eighteen from each of the twelve districts have been sent into an arena to fight to the death. So far no one from my district has come back alive.

"Falon?" Jay's voice stops me.

"Just going to the backyard," I reply.

I climb up to the tree house my father built for me a few months after my mother died in childbirth, my baby brother only surviving a few hours before joining her. Every night after we finished it, we would climb up there to eat dinner and look at the stars. Since his death it is one of the few places I can go to feel calm.

I spend an hour up in the tree just thinking, before Jay calls me down. With both parents dead at the age of fourteen, I guess I was lucky not to be left to fend for myself. Instead my father's best friend, Jay, took me in. We've been happy in our own little way over the last few years, but I can't help thinking that soon he'll be gone also and I'll be alone again.

He gives me a reassuring hug. "Go get some sleep."

_"Just play along."_

My father's final words to me, that I can remember, echo in my head.

I think back on that day. Twenty years since the rebellion ended and we were still picking up after it, we still are. Father started taking me with him on these clean up trips once all the human remains were buried. We were working where the houses furthest from the plant used to be collecting objects that survived, tossing everything into a pile that didn't and burning it to ashes.

I was down in one of the many craters in the area from a bombing when I heard the first screams. Under the screams was the unmistakable buzzing of hornets. The swarm took half of those working with us before the remaining people ran to the pyre to try and fend them off with smoke. Smoke was the only weapon we had that day to fight those things. But it was too late for those there.

The instant someone shouted "Trackers," my father shoved me back into a crevice and used his body to cover the hole to protect me. His last words in this life were "Just play along sweetheart."

Everything that happened from that moment until I woke up in my bed a few days later was a jumble of reality and the effects of tracker venom. Despite my father's sacrifice, one tracker managed to find me. The nature of the venom is to attack the place where a person's fear dwells bringing the most unspeakable horrors to the surface. When you think that it's finally over, another assault of nightmares begins.

The venom eventually worked its way out of my system. I knew enough about the venom's effects to know what I had experienced was only my imagination, nothing more. But when I woke up, I learned that more than one part of my nightmares were true. No matter how badly I wanted it to be just one more layer of the venom, that all of it was just a bad dream, I have to accept the screams of those with me were real and that all of them, including my father, are dead.

The nightmares still come to me, but not in the rich detail the venom was able to ensue. For the next couple months, Jay had to hold me every night just so I could sleep. And when the nightmares came, and they always did, he'd rock me and repeat my father's words to 'just play along.'

If anyone eligible for the Hunger Games feels that people are watching them, then their paranoia is justified. Along the road everyone stares at the kids as we walk to school. If a parent doesn't want their child in the arena, and that's just about every single one of them, then they have to hope that someone else's child will have more votes. Or an orphan like me.

White uniformed Peacekeepers, the Capitol's lackeys for keeping the districts in line, gather in small groups talking about which kid would do well in the games. They don't know us by name, but they can point easily enough to the one they're thinking about.

"What about that one?" a Peacekeeper asks, probably referring to me.

"It'd be a pity for that one to go," laughs another.

I don't want to hear any more and pick up the pace. All through the yard there are whispers of last night's announcement. More than one girl is hysterical as they blurt out that it will be them going into the arena for sure for various reasons. The boys keep quiet, but I'm sure a few of them are thinking about it as well.

Kara looks up from our circle of friends and waives me over. Others exchange looks of relief. Instantly I'm pulled into the conversation. Some of their parents have already started discussing which children should be going in.

"They say that the North boy should go in," says Stella.

Of course her parents would say that. While I don't hold it against Stella or anyone, her family was one of the first to give up after District Thirteen got blown sky high. The Capitol was kind enough to show some footage of that last night as a fresh reminder.

During the time referred to as the 'Dark Days', District 13 instigated a rebellion among the districts. But it was a lost cause from the beginning, or so the teachers say. The rebels weren't organized enough and the Capitol… the Capitol had so many weapons at their disposal. There were the basic weapons that shot gas, blew things up, turned buildings into ruble. But then there were the not so basic. Animals were genetically altered to do all sorts of things. Some brought back information while others were used as a form of torture or death, mostly death. Year after year we get to see these mutts in action as they take out the tributes in the Hunger Games.

Even though the war was coming to an end, the Capitol ensured that the other districts knew who was in charge. District Thirteen no longer exists and the Hunger Games were born. We've been picking up after the war ever since.

This year it'll be a question of who is to blame within the districts. Is it someone like Stella's family who spoke against the rebellion in the first place, people that might've turned the tide in the war? Or will it be someone like the North's, one of the families that started the rebellion right here in District Five and now that everyone has to partake in their failure they deserve the blame? Right away I know this Quell is what is going to destroy my district for many years to come. It's almost perfect.

In my mind, one Hunger Games, was one too many. But what has anyone ever done about it? They've just silently sent their children away year after year and buried them when they came back. So far District Five has forty-eight corpses. A number that only has one direction to go.

Kyle looks at me, "Who do you think should go in Falon?"

I give him a look that lets him know right away that was the wrong thing to ask.

The ringing of the bell summons us to class. Our teacher, Mr. Scaler, tries to go through our lesson as normal, but I know he's just as distracted as everyone else today.

School is half-way over, but it's time for my shift at the plant. As a member of District Five, we produce the power and electricity for all of Panem. In school, my teachers discovered my talent for figuring things out and placed me in an accelerated program. Whether it's finding the problem with the generators or reading between the lines, everyone knows I'll be one of the first to come up with a solution.

Six days a week for the past two and a half years, I've walked the mile to the plant to start my shift in one of the control rooms. At first working with the adults was intimidating, but later it became quite fun.

My supervisor, Elian Welkin, smiles and nods in a friendly way when I walk in. Elian is married, but has no kids at risk. His oldest son is five years too old and his youngest has already gone into the Games.

"Afternoon," I say like nothing has changed. But a few others are all looking at me. "What?"

Beth rushes to speak first, "Don't worry dear, none of us will vote for you."

The others add their assent quickly behind her. I look at each of their faces. Everyone in here but Elian has children of age for the reaping. The packs are already starting to form. Adults will agree not to vote for someone's family member so long as they agree not to vote for their child/niece/nephew, whatever.

"I'm sure Jay won't vote for any of your children," I assure them. So I was right, that was what they were hoping for.

We go through the shift like nothing has changed. But everything has. There will be no going back after last night.

My first brilliant idea hits me as I walk past the Justice Building. I tell Elian that I need to go in for a moment and he says he'll wait. Ever since I got moved to his shift, Elian has walked me home. He always did feel a little responsible for me, making sure I get home every day safe, so I don't question this.

There have only been a few times I've been in this building. The first time was a week after I recovered from the attack. The mayor held a special ceremony for the victims. One family member came up and accepted a medal for each of the fallen. It was just one more event I had to endure before I finally accepted my father wasn't coming back. Everyone in attendance stared at me that day. I was to be pitied, the survivor who had nothing left to come back to.

Ever since that day, my best friend, Boron Welkin, would walk me to and from school. We were a year apart, but because of my brains we got to have a few classes together and we'd always sit next to each other. He had a way of making me laugh that no one else could manage. Two years passed and I finally learned to cope from day to day. But then the Twenty-third Hunger Games took him from me.

The second time in the Justice Building was to say good-bye. The third and fourth visits were to take out a tesserae for Boron's grieving family. In exchange for a small year's supply of grain and oil, a potential tribute can put their name in the reaping bowl one extra time per month. Where they came up with the term 'tesserae' I don't know and honestly don't care. But I know I'm going to take one out now.

As I approach the desk and sign in, the attendant looks at me quizzically before going straight to work. My blood is taken to verify my name and that I am eligible. Afterwards I smile cheerfully as I retrieve my food.

When I leave the building, Elian is staring wide mouthed at me. "What are you doing? You should've come to me first if you and Jay were in trouble."

I bite my bottom lip sheepishly. I forgotten his reaction to finding out I took a tesserae twice for his family. But this time I think I'll get off the hook easier. "We're not in trouble. I've just realized part of the beauty of an election. It's my last year, so it doesn't matter how many times I take a tesserae out. I either get voted in this year or I don't go at all."

Elian stares dumbfounded for a moment, but then laughs. "Oh girl, I think you're a little too smart for your own good."

Jay is somewhat less than amused. While he admits it is a brilliant idea, he chews me out for an extended period of time on how I shouldn't be attracting attention to myself. It's a well known fact I'm an orphan. And there are many in my district that wouldn't be so cruel as to take a child from their parents. I guess that makes me fair game.

As the days since the announcement passed, the packs are growing larger and larger. Jay joined one as quickly as possible. And I can't help but think this is what goes on in the Hunger Games.

Districts One, Two, and Four were the first to surrender. Even before Thirteen was obliterated, the rebellion there was rapidly diminishing. But the remaining Districts held on until it became clear we didn't have a chance. Evidence of the hatred for those three districts by the others was apparent. During the first five or so Hunger Games, they were always the first targets by the other tributes. Then someone got the idea to form an alliance in order to survive the first three days. Ever so slowly the tables turned and now they are the hunters, taking out the field before turning on each other until one comes out the victor.

That's what we're doing now. We'll form our alliances and be ready to take on the others before turning on ourselves. Such a clever way for the Capitol to keep our thoughts occupied on each other rather than the real enemy. It's just one more way to keep us from uniting again. As if the Hunger Games didn't do that on its own.

Everything has changed. As names are tossed left and right on who should go in, I find myself exercising more and more, anything to take my mind off the growing tension around me. I run faster seeing if I can outdistance the suffocating air around me. If that's not enough, I put in more work hours at the plant, but it's getting even worse there.

Arguments are growing in number and intensity. What used to be playful bantering at school or work has now become full blown fist fights. The Peacekeepers never do anything about it, just part of their entertainment. So long as we fight each other, they'll just stand off to the side and watch interfering only to take the instigators in for questioning.

Boron's older brother, Gray, walks me to school now just like Boron used to. Normally he would be in bed this hour after the graveyard shift, but he has insisted on it every day. Everyone knows Gray has already lost someone to the games. I think he's trying to protect me since he wasn't able to protect Boron. It wasn't his fault that he was too old to replace his brother, yet he still punishes himself.

Gray was my childhood crush growing up, but he didn't think of me as anything but his little brother's best friend. I guess some of those feelings still exist if I'm waiting excitedly for his knock on the door. What does that say about me? That I've moved on from Boron? Or I'm retreating back to what's familiar?

There's no time to go through that question when I hear the knock.

"Bye Jay," I shout before opening the door.

Gray stands a good head taller than me, which is impressive since I'm one of the tallest at school. His dark hair is slightly curly and his gray eyes are a sharp contrast to my red hair and green eyes.

"Ready?" Gray asks.

It's a beautiful spring morning with the blossoms all coming out. It's just enough to pull my mind away from everything if only for a moment. Gray is smiling also, maybe enjoying the sights as well?

Today Gray takes a different route to the school. It's longer, but the trees are so stunning this time of year and we only get to enjoy them for a short while. Besides, we left with plenty of time to get there.

Shouting up ahead grabs our attention. From here I can see a small group of Peacekeepers off to the side. Near them is a large group of kids and it can only mean one thing.

"Another fight," Gray sighs. "Let's take the back way."

"Wait," I say stopping in my tracks. I recognize some of the voices. "That's Kyle and Cody."

Kyle and Cody, while never the best of friends, had always been on good terms with the other… until now. For me it's more than that. They were two of Boron's closest friends, friends that promised to watch out for one another… and me.

Before I can do anything, Gray has left my side and hurries to the fight. Without thinking, I follow and push ahead to the front to find that Gray has planted himself between my two friends.

"Enough!" Gray shouts at the top of his lungs.

All eyes are on me him an instant. Cody immediately looks guilty when he sees him and then me, but Kyle is still furious.

"Stay out of this Boron," Kyle shoots back.

My mind backtracks to a day three years ago. Kyle was in a fight with another boy over something stupid. Just like Gray is doing now, Boron interfered although not as abruptly. It's the same. The brothers are exactly the same. And I'm not the only one who was thinking about it.

As soon as the words are out of Kyle's mouth I know he wishes he could reclaim them. He swallows hard, getting his temper into check. "Gray, I'm-"

"Save it," Gray says curtly.

Kyle looks like he wants to say something more, but can't get it out and leaves.

Gray stares at the others, "Don't you all have class?"

As if it's the most brilliant idea in the world, my classmates hurry to be the first to the door. Mr. Scaler, my teacher, is just walking into the school yard as the last of the students are leaving.

"Problem?" Mr. Scaler asks.

"No sir," Gray replies. He turns to me. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you," I say. It's more than just thanks for walking me to school. I'm relieved that fight is over. It may not be a permanent fix to the problem, but it's a start.

"Shall we, Ms. Dawnson?" my teacher asks.

I shake my head. "Sorry, sir, but I'm not feeling well."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Best get some rest in before your shift."

With a nod I take the same path I did this morning. This time the beauty doesn't do anything to distract me instead I dive deeper into my memories. Without realizing it, I have wandered into the graveyard.

There are a few graves in here that have meaning for me, but only one that's on my mind right now. Respectfully I make my way to the tribute portion of the graveyard. Someone decided twenty-five years ago that all of our tributes would be buried together. It's something the Capitol would do, just as another reminder of how powerless we really are. But then it's also something my district would do, but to show that we will not be forgotten.

Each of the forty-eight graves in this space is marked with the tribute's name and the year they went into the arena. It's grave forty-six, _Boron Welkin -23__rd__ Hunger Games- _that I'm interested in.

We became friends when we were just a pair of toddlers and were inseparable ever since then. Gray would sometimes pull us into his antics, but we did pretty well on our own. Oh the trouble we could get into, when we got caught anyway.

I'm sure I was lonely during the year that he had school and I didn't. But as soon as he was home we were up to our old tricks. Sometimes he'd bring friends home and I'd be included in the group as 'one of the guys' despite being younger and a girl, that and I rivaled most of them on who most desperately was in need of a bath when they returned home. Over the years our group of friends, Kyle and Cody included, became one of the tightest knit groups in school.

Then when I lost my father, everything changed between us. Rather than make me move into his home, which was closer to the plant, Jay moved in with me. As the daughter, I was allowed one month grieving time away from school, but Jay and Boron were allowed only a few days before returning to their schedules.

For the first couple weeks, I was virtually alone during the day. Sure Gray was in the house, but because of the nightshift he'd only be able to stay awake for a few hours before needing to sleep. I, on the other hand, stayed up in my tree house trying to sort through my nightmares of what was real and what was just tracker venom. Unfortunately most of what I saw was true and the rest I dreaded would happen.

After school Boron would rush to my house to be with me. Sometimes a friend or two would come along, but more often not since my flashbacks would scare them. Slowly I was coaxed out of my tree and returned to school.

It took awhile longer to get me to join our group of friends. Boron would skip out on things in favor of being there for me. There were times I got mad at him for finding me and would tell him to go away, but he never did. He knew me too well and before long I'd be in his arms crying into his shoulder. Mind you I did have to apologize afterwards since my crying was a bit awkward for him. Unfortunately it was something he got used to.

There are so many things about his personality that would get any girl to fall in love with him. One day I realized I was one of those girls. I will admit it was a little interesting figuring out how girls act in this situation. I'd been 'one of the guys' for so long that I wondered how in the world I'd pull it off. Oh the look on their faces when I wore a dress to school for the first time. I didn't think anyone's mouth could drop that low. Well it worked.

We both knew that we were heading in that direction, but never acted on it. Jay made it quite clear I wasn't allowed to date anyone until my nineteenth birthday. It wasn't because he was a controlling guardian, quite the opposite. He was just trying to protect me in case one of us went in the games.

The instant Boron's name was picked for the games, my world shattered. How many hours did I spend in tracker induced nightmares where friend after friend went into the arena never to come out?

Later I learned that Kyle and Cody, who were standing with me, practically had to carry me over to Jay while I went into one of my relapses. The hour allotted for a tribute to say good-bye to friends and family was quickly ticking away. Jay had to be a little more than unkind to bring me back, but I'm glad he did otherwise I would've never gotten the chance to say good-bye.

Boron was bent over with his arms behind his head. As soon as he saw me he jumped up with the biggest smile I'd ever seen on him.

"Almost thought you wouldn't come," he said as he wrapped his arms around me and burying his face in my hair.

"I'm sorry," I kept repeating as I hugged him tighter.

We stayed there, him and me, for awhile. Eventually he pulled me back and wiped my tears away.

"Smile for me," he asked.

It took a couple attempts, but I was able to get the one he managed to coax out of me.

He smiles back at me as he cupped my face. "There's the light of the dawn's sun."

This made me smile even brighter. He always told me my real smile could light up Panem.

"I can't promise anything, but I am going to try to win. I want to come back to see that smile again."

In that moment I did what I wanted to for a long time and kissed him full on the mouth. It only lasted a few seconds before we pulled apart.

"You're coming back for that."

The second time I'm not sure who leaned in first, but we were kissing up until the Peacekeeper told us our time was up.

"Now I really have to come back," he laughed and he kissed me one more time.

As I was walking home with Jay I knew, deep down, Boron wasn't coming back. But I still held onto the slightest hope that he would win even if the odds weren't in his favor.

In the arena I think he intended to partner up with the girl from our district, Helen Parkins, but she was killed in the bloodbath the first day. He managed to get away with a few supplies and did all right for himself for awhile.

During the day I'd watch the games with our group of friends on one of the screens by school and at night I'd either watch them with his family or with Jay. Everyone in the district cheered him on.

One of the things I admired most about Boron would be the thing to get him killed. If there was one thing that Boron or I wouldn't tolerate, it was bullying. When a classmate would pick on another, he'd be the first to stand up to the bully. This would sometimes lead to the bully turning on him, but the rest of us were quick to back him up.

But there was no 'rest of us' in the arena. On day seven, the Pack found a fourteen year old girl from District Eleven. They were laughing as they chased her through the woods. As soon as his eyes shut I knew he'd do something.

"Boron, don't," I whispered.

It was like he heard me because not even a second passed before the cameras barely picked up him saying, "Sorry Falon," before he took on the Pack.

He managed to distract them long enough for the girl to get away and escape himself, but not before a knife plunged into his side. Over the next week I left the TV only to use the bathroom not wanting to miss finding him in the footage. I remember waking up one morning to see the camera focused on him. Pressing my hand against his face I told him it was all right. I'd be all right.

The sunlight found his face letting me see him smirk, the same one that made me smile every time, right before he slipped into unconsciousness. Boron was reminding me to smile. His cannon fired a few hours later.

Three days later the train came to return the bodies of our two tributes. His mother and I walked with one arm wrapped around the other both seeking and giving comfort as his father, brother, his two uncles, Jay, and a friend carried his casket to the graveyard.

All of this goes through my head as I sit in front of his grave. Tears come quickly from the pain I feel of losing him, my parents, and now my district. The vote is in just two days and I know what will happen afterwards. Two children will be voted to go in. Their family and friends will hate their neighbors for taking their children from them. There might even be a few riots but the Peacekeepers will let them blow out like they always do. It's all part of their live entertainment before the games.

In the end, I don't want to see what this year's games will do to my home. Already I can't stand it here and it's only getting worse. I hear the arguments at work. We're tearing each other apart. If anyone thinks that these problems are going to magically go away after this year's games, they're just fooling themselves. This will continue to fester in our district for years to come.

And I realize how much I despise those around me. We all watch the games every year as children are burned, eaten alive, starved, dehydrated, stabbed, blown up, or some other horrible way to die. And yet these people insist this kid or that kid should go in for whatever reason. No one should go in. No one should ever have to go in!

As I look at the forty-eight graves around me I wonder what they would say if they could see the district like this. Boron, I know, would have some choice words for the district. I have some choice words of my own. We dishonor their memories by fighting like this.

And then I figure out a partial solution.

It's so crazy, no not crazy, it's suicidal what I'm thinking. Sweat pours down my face as I run towards the fence surrounding the district. I lean up against a rock and stare out into the great unknown. Out there is a large variety of who knows what that can kill you any number of ways, and yet I'm thinking of going into some place where I'm practically guaranteed a wooden box.

I don't know how long I sit there and think it out. No I can't do this to Jay. I can't put him through watching me getting killed or worse, dying slowly. And what about the others that care about me? How many at work have assured me, from all packs, that I won't be going in? It just wouldn't be… fair.

And then the logic turns back to why I thought about volunteering in the first place. It's not fair. It's not fair for anyone to go into that arena. People always say I have a talent for figuring things out; well I've come up with my answer.

My resolve ebbs but then hardens again over the next two days. I'd be lying, and stupid, not to say I'm scared. But my mind is made up.

Jay kisses me on the forehead before entering the assembly hall. Somehow I don't think he's oblivious as I think he is to my plans. We've never talked about it, but I think he knows.

Taking a deep breath, I walk in just as the doors are closing and the mayor is calling for order. Technically I'm not supposed to be in here, none of the potential tributes are, but I have to get this out. My heart pounds against my chest and I'm having difficulty breathing.

The mayor begins by reading the rules of the election. Everyone must cast a name in for both the male and female tribute. No one may abstain from the vote. The final tally will be kept secret, but the results will be known as soon as they're available. This way, their family can spend the next month saying goodbye.

"The boy and girl with the most votes will be our tributes. If the tally comes out as a tie, we will have another election with only those names with the highest amount of votes. After you've cast your vote, you may leave. Any questions?"

My heart is pounding harder than ever. "I'd like to say something."

All heads turn to me. I keep my eyes on the mayor so I don't have to look at their faces. The mayor nods for me to speak. As I open my mouth someone interrupts.

"She's not allowed in here."

I find the speaker, Mr. Scaler, his eyes dangerous as lightning telling me to leave now. A few others affirm his claim. But I'm not going anywhere in fact he has made me even more determined.

"I'll make this brief then," I say loud enough for everyone to hear me. "My name is Falon Dawnson and I'd like to formally nominate myself as the female tribute for District Five."

Loud gasps issue from the crowed. Every face is turned to me. I glance at Jay and see his jaw clenched and eyes shut tight. Yes, he thought I might do this, but was hoping I wouldn't.

"This is no longer the home I grew up in. It took the Capitol one sentence before we started destroying one another." I look over the crowd, not searching for any particular face but enough to let them know I blame most if not all of them. "_One sentence_. We did the rest of the work."

I had more planned in my head, but I can't get it out. I'm so angry, sad, and frustrated all at once that I'll explode if I don't get out of here soon. "Just keep in mind one thing. A vote for any other girl might end up tilting the election to your daughter's favor." My anger is rising in my voice now, "Nothing will make me despise you more than if you send someone other than a volunteer in there. Falon Dawnson."

After I shout my name out, I turn and leave letting the doors slam behind me. Once I get out of sight of the windows, I bolt down the street. I want to go to my tree house, but that is too close. Before I know it, I'm back by the far side of the fence hurling rocks and tree branches at the wires.

Jay's waiting for me when I get home. We stare at each other for a little bit before he shakes his head. "Every bit as stubborn as your father." His gaze softens and he opens his arms. "Come here."

I walk into them and let him hold me.

"Stubborn, foolish, brave girl," he says holding me tighter.

Mr. Scaler posts the scores from our latest test. He hasn't been able to look at me more than five seconds together since the election. I'm not sure why, we've never been particularly close. Once he finishes, he goes back into his classroom.

Several of my classmates are lined up against them searching for their name. A groan comes from Logan as he mummers 'not again'. I must've topped his score. It's funny, when he gets the better grade, and we flip-flop quite a bit, he always makes a big deal about it when he's on top. I, on the other hand, just acknowledge I got a good grade because I don't care… that and my indifference annoys Logan. Few would blame me. His expression when he's annoyed is rather precious.

Peacekeepers march down the hall. Their presence at school is nothing new over the last few months, but with no fight in the hallway, it's a bit of a surprise to see them. Everyone moves out of their way quicker than they would steer away from a tracker jacker nest and come straight to my classroom.

"Falon Dawnson?" one asks.

"That's me," I say stepping up.

"You are to come with us."

Those around me are staring, but I act as I expected this visit. "Hey, Logan. What's my score?" I have to repeat myself before his attention gets into focus.

"Uh, a perfect."

"Not bad for my last test." I turn back to the Peacekeepers and follow them outside.

Another pair of Peacekeepers is escorting another student, a fourteen year old boy, behind them. My suspicions are confirmed. The boy, Rotor North, is utterly perplexed what he's doing here. The only reason I know who he is was because I wanted to see the face of the name I heard being tossed around so much.

Rotor looks to me for an explanation and I mouth out 'tributes'. His eyes widen in fear, little by little he gets his breathing under control and his face hardens as if he expected this. We are brought just off of school grounds where a grave faced mayor is waiting for us. With a signal, the Peacekeepers move away from us. The mayor stares at me wonderingly and then at Rotor.

"The votes came back a few minutes ago. The pair of you has been selected to represent District 5 as tributes in the 1st Quarter Quell. Until Reaping Day, you are both free to do as you please. Then you will be collected by your escort and taken to the Capitol."

So, I get my wish.

I stand with the boy who is to go into the arena with me in silence as the mayor and Peacekeepers get back into their cars and leave. There was more the mayor wanted to say, but what other words could he give in front of Peacekeepers?

"I guess that's it then," says Rotor. He starts walking away from the school, probably towards home.

"Hey," I say. "If you want to team up in there, I won't say no."

He pauses for a moment, thinking it over, but then continues walking. I guess I should do the same, but I end up walking back into school. Might as well hand my books back and collect my belongings now. Besides, Jay won't be at the house for several hours and sitting in an empty house doesn't seem like fun right now.

I haven't been gone very long so it's no surprise that the gossip about my exit by Peacekeeper is still heating up. It's possible I'm in trouble for stopping another fight yesterday by pinning one of the instigators to a wall.

Kara is the first to ask what that was about. The vote is looming over all of our heads, but so far only myself and those that have guessed know the results. As soon as Kara has asked, everyone within earshot is curious. Better just to get it over with.

"Relax," I say loud enough so everyone can hear. "The mayor was kind enough to tell me in person that Rotor North and I are going to the Capitol in a month. May the odds be ever in your favor."

I dodge around their first confused and then stunned faces at what I've just said. Then there's a mix of shock and relief, the same looks that get passed around every year after the Reaping. But then there are other looks. Disbelief is the one look I can't account for on some of their faces. All this I ignore as I collect my school things, return books to my teachers, and leave.

"Falon!"

Jay is home three hours early.

"Out here," I shout into the house.

Jumping down, I meet him by the back door. For a moment he looks me up and down, mixed emotions on his face before wrapping me in his arms. A few neighbors have stepped out of their homes to see me as well. Already I'm a corpse to them.

Jay shepherds me into the house away from all of them. "Just one question, are you going to try and come home?"

His eyes look into mine and I know he's hurting. I shouldn't have sprung this on him, but in the end what I did was the right thing to do. There will be no end of my apologies up until Reaping Day.

"I might give it a go. Depends on how long I'm able to hold on."

"Well, you're smart enough to keep your wits about you. And you'll have a month to prepare. I think I can teach you a few tricks by then."

A few tricks means that once he's satisfied I know the material, we move onto the next. Every day I'm tossing knives, climbing trees, learning some new survival skill. At least this way I won't die from the basic methods so long as the resources are available. My favorite part is getting away with it.

Peacekeepers come to the house daily to make sure I haven't run away or training. Tributes aren't supposed to train. Once they caught me building a fire in the backyard. I could hear their heavy boots breaking the twigs Jay set up to warn us of their visits.

"We haven't had popcorn in awhile, have we," Jay asks. With that he puts a pan over the flame and we wait for the kernels to pop. Eventually the Peacekeepers noisily disappeared. I don't think we've laughed so hard since the announcement of the Quell.

On this day my dad and I would pick wildflowers to decorate my mother's grave for her birthday. Since today will probably be the last time, I actually buy some flowers from one of the shops. Mother always did like the tulips, but we couldn't afford them.

Ever since the results came back, I've avoided going out in public too much. After my outburst at the election, everyone knows my face and they feel guilty for whatever reason. Those who live in the market give me free handouts whenever they see me and that makes me feel guilty, so Jay has done all of our shopping.

As I'm walking to the graveyard, Rotor plows right into me. I know it's him because every day since he found out he'd be going in, Rotor has gone to town. No doubt making sure everyone knew his face. Understood that they were responsible for sending him into the arena. I don't know why this rubs me the wrong way. Maybe because his highness thinks he's going in alone.

"Watch it," he growls.

"Watch yourself," I retort.

He looks at me like I'm the most loathsome person on the planet. "Do you even know who I am?"

"My district partner in the arena," I point out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I leave him standing there slack jawed. In the graveyard I quickly find my parent's graves. Many times I wondered if the pain of missing them would ever go away. Guess it soon won't matter.

I place two tulips on each grave and then sit there silently. What would they say to me, if they were still alive? Jay's tried to fill in the blanks for me, but somehow I don't think he gets it quite right. I hardly remember anything about my mother. Others tell me I look so much like her and share many of her traits, but I also have a healthy dose of my father in me as well.

"Choosing a site? Because we all get buried over there," Rotor says behind me.

"No, I just felt like putting flowers on a random grave."

Rotor takes a few steps closer. "Who are they?"

I sigh. This was supposed to be my quiet afternoon paying my respects. "My parents."

His expression is odd as he looks from the graves to me. He leans up against the trunk of the cherry blossoms that guards the graveyard. Finally he asks the obvious question.

"How did they go?"

"Mom first. She died in childbirth when I was six. Family tradition apparently. Lost him a few years back in that tracker jacker attack that took fifteen people with them."

Oh he's interested now. "The one where that girl survived?"

My mind retreats a little, but I force myself back. "Yea, the attack where the girl survived."

Rotor snorts, "Maybe we can find her and ask her what it's like to go through that. Give us an idea what to expect."

I scoff, "It wasn't fun that's for sure."

Again he stares at me, slack jawed. "You, you were the survivor?" His face hardens in horror. "Is that why they voted you to go in? Because you were able to survive that, they think you can survive the arena?"

"Doesn't matter. What does is the fact that my offer to team up still stands."

His mind is turning, making theories, drawing conclusions. The facts are simple. Only one tribute lives, none of our tributes has ever turned on the other, never before has anyone from our district come home. Teaming up means we can look out for one another, but also be a potential burden. Who knows what the other will do when the choice comes to either fight or flee for self-preservation?

"Why the offer? Because my family was a bunch of rebels and knew how to survive."

Already distrust and there is little I can say to convince him otherwise except for the truth. Standing up I ask him to follow me over to the tribute graves, to Boron's grave.

"See this one here? Boron was my best friend since we were old enough to walk. On day seven he received a knife wound that took days to finish him off. I watched with his parents the first few days, but then his mother lost it and had to be drugged for the rest of it.

"You and I are very likely going to come home in a box. By staying together we can insure a swift death for the other when it comes to that. Our family's don't need to be tortured any more than they will be when we're in there."

"All right," he says finally. "I'm in.

It's my last night under a peaceful sky. Unable to sleep, I go outside to look at the stars. In no time at all, Jay is out there with me holding me like he did when the nightmares were at their peak.

"You know, I don't think we'd have lost if you were born before the rebellion."  
This catches me off guard. "How so?"

"Because you would've figured out why it was worth fighting and you would've showed others the way. You've always been like that."

"I had great examples to look up to," I nudge him telling him he's one of them.

Jay gives an uncomfortable laugh, "Me? I was one of the reasons we rebelled. My kind anyway. No one wanted to have a mockingjay."

Mockingjays, a songbird that is part Capitol mutation and part ordinary bird. Jabberjays were created to record rebel conversations and report them back to the Capitol. Eventually, the rebels figured this out and started filling the birds with inaccurate information. Once the Capitol learned they were being played, they left the birds to die out. But they didn't. They found a way to survive.

When I was young, one of my neighbors was singing while she did her laundry. After she finished, the bird repeated the melody of the song back. I remember the shocked expression on her face, but then it turned into a laugh. The male jabberjays found a way to survive by mating with female mockingbirds. A mockingjay.

However the term 'mockingjay' also became the slang word for someone who had a Capitol father and a district mother. They were something to be either pitied, since they didn't belong to the Capitol but didn't exactly belong to the district either, or hated since the child was a reminder to people of what really goes on in the districts.

After the discovery of the bird, things started to change. It wasn't a Capitol mutt, something to be feared, but rather a songbird to be delighted with. Father said that's when my guardian started going by Jay. People were amused at his stubbornness. But it was more than that. Many in the district knew him from the rebellion and that he had fought just as hard as any rebel and lost just as much as everyone else. A lot of mockingjays did.

"You know some people are accusing me for putting the idea to volunteer in your head," he says.

"What do you tell them?" I ask.

"Haven't had to say anything. Usually someone jumps in and gives that person a tongue lashing about how I would never put my best friend's daughter in jeopardy so blatantly. Mind you this is also accompanied by some comment about your stubbornness issues."

I laugh. "That sounds like something Elian would say."

"Good guess," he says.

Tomorrow I will board a train that will take me to the Capitol. In a week I could be dead. But I've had a month to say my goodbyes to classmates, friends, neighbors, and co-workers. It's longer than any other tribute had time to say their final farewells.

Jay shakes me awake. "It's time."

Inside I clean up while Jay makes a mismatch my favorite foods for breakfast. As I look into the small hand mirror that belonged to my mother, I'm surprised at how calm I look. My fingers don't even fumble as I braid a portion of my hair, leaving the rest to flow freely down my back.

When I walk into the other room, Jay has our food ready.

"Here," he says handing me something.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Really good rope cleverly disguised as an ordinary bracelet. You unravel it and it can be used for all sorts of things. It'll even hold your weight."

I look down at my waist. The guilt the people of my district has felt for my fate has resulted in eating better than most the district. Even scrawny Rotor has put on a few pounds in the last month.

"What are you implying?" I tease.

Jay laughs in the way we've done since I learned I'd be going in. He's trying to keep me happy, to remember the good times, and to let me know there could be more. If only I'd come home.

"If you can get away with it, that bracelet would be a great token."

I nod and he puts the bracelet around my wrist. We take the food to my tree house where we tell a few more stories. The stories he'll write down so he'll never forget.

Not until the bells of the Justice Building clock rings out, signifying I have only an hour to get to the square do we climb down.

Reaping Day is the only day I ever wear a dress, skirt, or anything girlish. I put on a green dress that belonged to my mother. For a brief moment, I feel like she is with me, but the moment quickly passes.

"You look like your mother," Jay says when I walk out. "They would be so proud of you. Just like I am."

Tears are threatening to come, but I hold them down. Before I know it, Jay's arms are around me again holding me tight. "Even if I had a child, I don't think I could love them more than you."

"I love you Jay," I tell him.

He gives me another tight squeeze. "Remember when you're in there, the Gamemakers will try to change who you really are. Do not get into mind games with them. They'll take you down slowly. Out of anyone in our district, I think you can beat these games. You've already have."

"What do you mean?" I am genuinely confused. The games haven't even started yet, how can I have beaten them already?

Jay just smiles. "You'll figure it out."

"Name and future occupation?"

"Falon Dawnson. District Tribute." I want to add 'corpse' but decide against it.

The attendant looks up from the registry and stares at me from underneath his glasses. Quickly my finger is jabbed and a dot of blood goes into a machine. A few seconds later my name registers on the machine.

"Well then, good luck to you, Miss Dawnson," he says. At least now he doesn't think I'm insolent.

I nod my thanks and walk into the square. Everyone is penned in according to age oldest in the front and youngest in the back. As this would've been my last year, I would be situated at the front. But seeing as we all know I'm going in, they might want me elsewhere. It's getting close to show time, so I better go find out.

At the foot of the stage stands the Head Peacekeeper speaking urgently with a pair of his men.

"No one was at the house, sir. They've…"

The Head Peacekeeper silences him with a gesture and turns to me. "Yes?"

I swallow hard. "I didn't know if there was someplace in particular where I'm supposed to stand."

"Where do you think, stupid girl," the Head Peacekeepers says. "Over there with the rest of your age group like you do every year."

"I just wanted to make sure, sir, since I'll be the tribute this year."

Apparently there's going to be a lot of staring at me dumbfounded going on today. I'm not sure why this amuses me so much, but I make sure not to smile. Quickly they regain their composure and the Head Peacekeeper escorts me personally to a chair on the stage.

A few minutes later, a group of four Peacekeepers escorts Rotor to the stage. I can see the cameras following his progress the whole way.

_So that's how they want to play it_, I think. The officials wanted it to look like our families refused to hand us over or that we tried to run. That they had to bring us here and so the entire district has to watch.

I look around at the stage feeling suddenly reckless. For whatever reason, the reaping balls are out on the stage. Most likely for decoration or tradition I guess. I stand up and walk over to the one containing the girls' names and reach in and pick one.

I don't know the girl whose name I've picked, but I smile and laugh as I fold it and drop it back into the bowl. For good measure I swirl up all the slips before returning to my seat. There's no telling if that would be the particular slip drawn today, but my actions might come in handy later.

Now it's time for the show to start. The mayor stands up and straightens his suit. He reads about the history of Panem. Jay told me once that only some of it is true and the rest lies.

"This year marks the Twenty-fifth anniversary of the reuniting of Panem and is to be _celebrated_ by the first Quarter Quell." I hear the distaste of the words on his tongue. "As decreed by President Galba, District Five has held an election to determine who will represent us in this year's Hunger Games. They sit on this stage before you. Their names, Falon Dawnson age eighteen, and Rotor North, age fourteen."

We are instructed to rise and meet each other center stage. I keep my eyes on Rotor and no one else and he does the same. Normally the tributes shake hands before being lead off the stage. Instead we clasp wrists like old comrades.

"Ready to show the world what we're made of," I ask him.

Rotor nods. "Bring it on."

Our escort, Anna Sasin, has the most ridiculous clothing. Her outfits change every year and get more and more audacious, but from what I see on the TV, it is hardly out of place at the Capitol. She walks with us over to the Justice Building where, on a normal year, the tributes would be given an hour to say goodbye.

Over the last month I've practically been a walking corpse to many of them. I've had enough of goodbyes, getting chewed out by some, and thanks for my sacrifice so I was relieved when the officials told us a few days back that we would dispense with the one hour and go straight to the train.

Never before had I seen anything so fancy up close before. Everything in this part of the train is for me and only me. I collapse on the bed and sink into it certain I won't have a problem sleeping tonight.

There's a lot of firsts today. I take my first shower with hot water and a variety of cleaners, have my hair dried in less than a minute, wear a touch of perfume, and try on every article of clothing the room has to offer. Some are tasteful, but most I wouldn't be caught dead in. The thought amuses me and I think I've lost all reason, wouldn't be the first time. Eventually I settle on gray pants and blue shirt before going to the dinning cart.

Rotor comes in a few minutes after me still dressed in his district clothes and looks at me accusingly. I roll my eyes at him, knowing he is just teasing me. We both agreed a couple weeks ago to keep the insults out of our alliance. Instead we'll play a game of our own.

All through dinner, Anna talks about what a treat we're in for. While our districts are the ones to turn us over, the Capitol will love and adore us. She fails to mention that this will only last a week before we are tossed into the arena and they'll be demanding our blood.

"Question, if we get sponsors, who will be responsible for sending in gifts?" Rotor asks.

"Oh, well, seeing as you don't have a victor from your district yet, I will be taking on the responsibility. If one of you wins than you will get that job next year."

Resisting the urge to exchange glances with Rotor is a little too much. Wouldn't that be an exciting prospect? What it must be like for the victors having to watch the games away from family and friends I just can't imagine.

After dinner we walk to the other room to watch the shortened version of the Reaping in all the districts. Anna left something in the other room and jumps up to get it.

"I just hope that she doesn't think lipstick is a life saving item in there," I say.

"Or hair accessories," Rotor laughs. "Maybe we should come up with a list for her."

"We can just tell her what we want in the arena." The Capitol Seal comes up indicating the start show. "Let's see what we're up against."

Rotor nods. Each of the tributes has the same anger on their face as they are presented to the audience. The camera's zoom into their faces and they stare out accusingly to everyone. When it comes to our turn, I see the cameras had followed my conversation with our Head Peacekeeper and also my little trip to the reaping bowl. _Good,_ I think.

We are not angry, unlike the others, we are just two kids like any other year of Hunger Game tributes. A strong start. The sea of accusatory looks continues. All except the tributes from District Twelve. The girl looks scared, but the boy holds her hand comforting her. There's something about him that intrigues me and it's not just his looks.

Not a single twelve year old. In fact I think Rotor's the youngest. There might be a couple eighteen year olds, but I'm not sure. Sometimes they showed a shot of their families clustered tight together not talking or even acknowledging their neighbors and I know that there will be no unity among the districts any time soon when inside our own we are divided.

"What do you think?" Rotor asks me.

"Not sure yet," I say. "Get some sleep."

A knock on the door wakes me up. A train attendant walks in telling me that breakfast is served. After getting up, I touch a machine that untangles my hair. Just one more invention I wish I had more time to play with.

At the table, Anna is stirring some black substance in her mug. Taking a seat opposite her, I look at the bounty on the table. Never have I ever seen so much food in one place. If it's just us three eating, what do they do with the leftovers? A sickening feeling hits me when I think that all of this gets tossed out.

By the time I'm halfway through my plate, Rotor joins us. Anna smiles brightly and welcomes him. She waits a few minutes for him to get his plate ready before going into the day's short itinerary. Very soon we will arrive at the Capitol where we will be handed over to our stylist for the day. The evening will consist of the Tribute Parade followed by going to our apartment.

From watching the games I know that all tributes wear some kind of costume representing their district. The girls from my district always looked different from the way I remembered seeing them on Reaping Day, but nothing prepares me for the process. First off I don't get to wear a thing as they do who knows what to my body. My only comfort is that the team of three preps is all women. I'm certain I would be three shades of red if there was a man in here.

"Darling I must know what product you use in your hair," Tress asks.

"I don't put anything in my hair," I reply.

"None? None at all?" she squeaks. "Oh you can tell me, darling. Please."  
I bite my lower lip. "I promise I'm being completely honest with you. I can't afford to buy anything for my hair but a brush."

The prep with butterflies tattooed on her cheek, Bridle, stares at me. "Don't your parents ever get you anything?"

"They would, but I'm an orphan."

Bridle cups her mouth with both hands, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry."

My first bit of sympathy of the day and it has nothing to do with the Hunger Games. "It's all right. You didn't know."

Mollified, she goes back to work.

By the time they're done with me, I'm not sure if I have a single strand of body hair left. Bridle helps me into a robe while Kala smiles saying Leo will be in shortly. I make sure the robe is secure as they walk out. No man has seen me naked since I was out of diapers and I see no reason for that to change now.

As soon as he walks in, he smiles wide as if awe struck. "Yes! Yes, you will be my Goddess of Panem. She who brings us electricity."

There's a word for this type of person back home, lunatic. It's not really his personality that gets me to draw this conclusion but the absolute craziness of his outfit that make Anna's look positively tame.

Leo presses his fingers together and touches his lips as he mutters something about my makeup under his breath. "Well, that can wait until later. First we will have lunch."

My stomach rumbles in agreement. Leo rambles on about what the tribute parade is and his vision of what District Five should be. I nod at the right places so at least he thinks I'm listening.

Afterwards I'm taken back into the other room. The preps are back with a dress, I think. It's a shimmering silver cloth that fades into blue at the bottom. I'm given a matching pair of sandals with wings on them, not that anyone will see them under the cloth. One side of my face is covered by an oversized glittering blue lightning bolt. My lips are a deep red, and my eyes stand out just as much. Just when I think they're about to go too far, they have me step in front of a mirror. I look nothing like my mother now. At this moment I'm another person from the Capitol.

Leo escorts me downstairs where Rotor and his stylist, Camry, are waiting for us. The two stylists go off and chitchat at the others work. Rotor looks uncomfortable with his robes of gold and plays with a piece of metal designed to look like lightning. His face goes bright red when he sees my outfit and looks away.

It's good to know he has some decency. If I wore something like this at home, I could name the men that would be gawking at me with my bare shoulders and arms, the amount of leg I'm showing with the slit in my gown that goes from the middle of my thigh to the ground. But all of this is minor in comparison of how embarrassed I feel at part of my chest being exposed. It may only be a little bit, but having never worn anything lower than my collar bone, I am very aware of how desperately I want to cover that area up.

When I'd wake up from a nightmare, my father would always hold me and have me tell him what happened. There was one dream that kept repeating itself, that some horrible creature was chasing me. After the third night in a row of this my father told me to play along with the nightmare. To make it silly until I woke up and realized it was a dream. While this is far from anything deadly, the same tactic applies. This is hardly a nightmare and will be over after a short chariot ride. I can play along until then.

"All right, so we're the gods of Panem. Not sure what that is, but our industry is power so I guess that means we need to look intimidating. So our heads should be held high and maybe a few waives here and there. I think you should lift that in the air when the cameras are focused on us."

"Sure," Rotor says. He is just as nervous as I am and is still refusing to look directly at me. I find myself liking him even more. It's then I realize just how compliant he's being. Something's up and I wonder if he's looking up to me to support him through this. Then again we are the only friends we'll have until our deaths.

Leo and Camry come back over and help us into the chariot. They take turns hopping up and making final adjustments on us before backing away.

As the doors open, I take a few deep breaths putting myself into the persona of what I think this goddess should be. "We'll take this one step at a time, Rotor. This is only a chariot ride. What did you tell me on the stage?"

"Bring it on."

"Right. Let's do this."

In no time at all the first four chariots pull out and ours starts to move. The crowed is not what I expected. Sure I've heard them screaming out as the tributes roll by them, but it is so much more insane in person.

Keeping my back straight I try to mimic the Head Peacekeeper's waive to his troops. I'm not sure if it will impress the Capitol, but it has always impressed me. They are screaming out and tossing flowers out. I give a small nudge to Rotor as the cameras train in on us. The crowd cheers louder as he raises the lightning bolt high. That's got to be a good sign. The camera is on me now. I'm not sure what passed through my head, but I delicately kiss a flower tossed to me and slyly open my eyes.

Afterwards I see the cameras turn to the chariot behind us. Even though the focus is off of us, we still have rows of people to please. At last, our chariot comes to a stop along with the others behind us. Once District Twelve's chariot comes to a halt, President Galba walks out onto the balcony.

During the welcoming speech in previous years the cameras occasionally flicked over to the tributes. But this year our faces dominate the screen only showing the president every now and then. As the president speaks about the rules of this quell the camera hones in on District Twelve. The male tribute is giving a small smirk.

_What does that mean, _I think. Suddenly I'm very curious about this person, more than I should be.

Once the speech ends, our chariots are pulled around the city circle once more. The doors to the Training Center close and I let out a deep sigh grateful that part is over. The preps, stylists, and Anna are all around us complimenting us. Leo takes my face in his hands and gives me a kiss on the cheek. "You were perfect."

I guess I can play this game.

Our penthouse apartment makes the train look cheap. Leo, Anna, and Camry immediately start blabbing about how beautiful everything looks. Anna calls us over and shows us to our rooms.

"Now, we have a little time before dinner is served. I'll come collect you in an hour."

Rotor waits for her to leave before speaking, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to change clothes."

"Don't know what you're complaining about. You were covered. I've never shown this much skin in public in my life!"

This makes him laugh and then blush. We go our separate ways and I am happy to see that shower and get all of this crap off my face. I stay in for awhile enjoying the spray of warm water on my face.

A tap on my door summons me to dinner and I quickly hop out and go through the drawers of night gowns. I pick one and add a pair of pants and a robe to compensate for my lack of modesty earlier this evening.

"Why don't you wear something a little more girlish?" Camry asks. "You are very lovely, dear. Our clothes will make you stunning."

I bite my lip, a hundred phrases of back talk just waiting to be launched, but I wait. It's not a good idea the insult these people if I'm going to be stuck with them for a week. "I, um, really don't know how to act girlish. I was raised by men and just about all my friends are male so I'm more of a tom boy than anything."

"Oh. Well then, you did marvelous for a beginner," says Anna. "Good thing I will have time to teach you to be a lady before your interview. They'll be the night before you go in."

"What?" I ask quickly.

At this precise moment, Rotor is running to the table and slides into his chair. "Did I miss anything?"

"Anna was just talking about the change made this year," Leo says energetically. "Instead of doing interviews with the tributes in the Training Center after your private sessions, they are instead going to bring you out in front of the entire Capitol to do them live."

"Yes," pipes in Anna. "On the day after your private sessions I will get to work with both of you to teach you how to behave like a lady and gentlemen. Leo and Camry here will be making your evening clothes and they will have the morning and afternoon after to get you ready. When you are on stage, each tribute will be given three minutes so that all of Panem can get to know you live."

_So everyone knows exactly who they've sent in,_ I think. If I was bitter about my situation, this would be the perfect place to express it, but I'm not. I asked for this and so I'm going to have to find some way to spin this. And then the idea comes. It's not much but it could work.

Our servers bring in the first course of food. After the server puts a ladle of soup into my bowl she smiles at me. "You looked ravishing on the chariot tonight." She turns to Leo before I can thank her. "Please tell me that outfit is going to be part of your new line, Leo."

"Of course it will be, my dear" he assures. "I might even be able to make a dress especially for you once the games have started. Quite busy with this new turn of events."

The server squeaks with delight. Rotor's jaw is clenched tight just as unhappy as I am that this bubble of a girl is focused on clothes rather than the twenty-three murders about to take place.

Idle chit-chat is thrown around to the point that I might just slam my head into the wall just to make it stop. To think that I used to have conversations about conductivity, fission, and other big words I'm questioning if they even know their meaning.

"Goodness look at the time," says Anna. "Now come along we don't want to miss the recap."

We watch as each chariot goes by on screen. I don't know if I should be glad or not that mine wasn't the only sexed up dress. Many of the other girls look uncomfortable in their getup particularly district nine. Judging by her outfit, I'd have no idea which district she was from or her industry. But at least that is all over.

"Please tell me there's a chess set around," I ask.

Rotor's eyes sparkle at the suggestion.

Our server thinks for a moment. "I don't believe so. I can go looking tomorrow for one if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful," I say. _I'm going to need my sanity._

The next morning we are up and out for training. Anna takes us downstairs about fifteen minutes before ten. We're the third district there and as we wait for the others Rotor and I walk around the training room.

Each of these weapons might be in the arena and in this room are the ones that will deliver death. I pick up a knife and examine it. It's the weapon I'm most familiar with especially since Jay trained me hard on throwing. The instructor at this station walks up and gives us a look that tells us not to touch the equipment yet.

At ten all the tributes are downstairs and we're getting the list of stations available for our use. We are dismissed into the room for our first day. Rotor leaves my side and goes to get a lesson in knife throwing. I stand there for about a minute before deciding to chuck a few spears.

In my mind I'm thinking this will be a method of getting food but when I see the target is human dummy I pause. I know I told Rotor the reason I wanted to team up was so that we could give the other a swift death, but I also wanted him near me so I could protect him. Maybe this way one of us could go home alive. If Rotor or I want to get home, killing is a given fact.

I study the instructor as he demonstrates a few times how to properly throw the spear. The boy from District Four watches intently as well. When he gives it a try, he gets it just outside the heart of the dummy.

I'm given a turn, but my throw is less than adequate, but I still hit the dummy. Slightly annoyed, I watch District Four again. I take in his position, the way his muscles tense up and his concentration. This time he hits the heart. I copy him to the best of my abilities and do a little better this time. A half hour goes by and I'm able to chuck the spear and hit the dummy every time on either the heart or stomach. Either place would kill you quickly.

Scanning the arena I find Rotor starting a wrestling match. Last night he might've been clinging to me, but today he's determined to stand alone. I move onto archery. This station proves to be fun. My first attempt gets me a bull's eye and I stare at it for a moment. But it takes a few more tries before I'm able to do it again. I learn on the fifth arrow to keep my elbow turned at a certain angle otherwise the string could hit it. The bruise forming on my arm was a rude wake up call to this fact. All of the sudden I find out I dislike archery.

We are called to lunch and I put down jar of paints I was using for camouflage. One thing is certain. I may be a wiz at figuring things out, but the arts have always been lost to me. How someone can take a few paints and smear them onto a canvas to make practically anything amazes me. Especially since I've always been pathetic at drawing.

In an adjoining room, food is in a self-serve assembly line. Rotor is sitting alone off in the corner and I go to join him.

"Mind if I sit?" I ask.

He shrugs as if it doesn't matter one way or the other.

"How's it going?" I ask.  
"Tried five stations so far. Jay's training helped out a lot, but I think I'm still average with them."

"Better to be all right in many than to only have skill in few," I tell him. "At least that's what my dad would say. Don't ignore the survival training. They might give us clues as to what the arena will be like."

"You really think one of us has a chance of going home?" he asks.

"Haven't decided if I want to go home yet," I say. "Sure I love Jay and everything, but I'm not sure if I want to face everyone else. What about you? Do you want to go home?"  
He doesn't answer for awhile. "I don't know either."

After lunch, the boy from Twelve joins up with me at the climbing station. He's not bad looking with his dark sandy hair and light skin. And he's taller than me, always a plus. Most guys back home are a touch shorter than me, not that I had interest in any of them. However this isn't the place to make a new friend. But then there might not be anything wrong with a little playful bantering to lighten the air.

There are a few to go ahead of us so I turn to him.

"I'm Falon Dawnson," I say.

He blinks, stunned momentarily that I've spoken to him. "Colvin Donner."

"Well, Colvin Donner, you have me curious. What was with the smirk last night during the speech?"

"What was with that kiss to the flower?" he retorts.

So he noticed that. "Just having a little fun to keep my mind off our current situation. I was mimicking something I saw on the TV once. At work we have to have the TV on in the control room so we can watch for shortage problems. Mind you we mostly keep it on mute."

He smirks and scratches the side of his head. "Let's just say I have my reasons."

A commotion has attracted everyone's attention. A pair of tributes is getting into a heated argument. They're shouting at the other, but so long as they're not exchanging punches, no one is interfering. What's worse is that Rotor stands up with one of them. The district partners are both aware of what's going on and are rushing over. There'll be a fight any moment and it won't go well for any of us.

"Hold my place in line?" I don't wait for a reply as I run across the training floor. In the months leading up to the election I've had to break up my share of fights. But these are not between my friends. Some of them will try to kill me at the end of the week.

"All right that's enough," I say cheerfully looking at one of the tribues. "Look, you don't have to be jealous of his outfit from last night, yours looked just as splendid. One and Four always have great costumes."

Their faces are all tightened up ready to lunge at each other.

"Move Five," the barrel chest boy from One says.

Right then and there I start doing this ridiculous dance, a tactic that has worked multiple times back home. I really have no shame sometimes. Some of the other tributes are laughing but the important thing is the two fighters are calming down.

I stop with a puzzled look on my face. "What? You told me to move."

Rotor is laughing his head off. He knows my antics better than anyone else in this room. "Falon you are flat out crazy."

I look offended. "I resemble that statement."

All the tributes are at least thinking about laughing. Situation neutralized. Merrily I skip back over to the climbing. Colvin is laughing quietly, but gestures to give me my spot back in line.

"Thank you," I say.

"Any time."

Back on our floor, Anna politely asks us how we did today. We discuss the different Gamemakers and what they look for in the tributes. While I knew they were up there, watching us, I never paid attention to them. I make note to do this tomorrow.

Our server from last night becomes my new best friend when she appears with a chess set. Rotor and I rush onto the balcony and race the other to set up our side of the board. Anna chuckles at our impulsiveness and leaves us to our 'little games'.

"So spill," I say. "What was that fight about?"

Rotor looks away, but knows he won't wiggle out of telling me. "The boy from District One was going at the District Four boy because he still supports what the rebels did. It was like the things I've heard shouted at my parents and I just…"

"It's all right. Standing up with him was brave, but don't do it again. I don't want to give the Gamemakers an excuse to take you out personally."

I wake up tangled in my bed sheets sweat dripping down my forehead. The nightmare fresh and intense slowly works its way out of my head. After getting myself out of bed I rush over and grab a pen and paper and start writing down some of the equations I used at work. By the time Anna calls me to breakfast, I think I have my sanity back, but my humor is all out.

At training, I'm focused on learning. Rotor heard me last night and has kept close to me most of the day. When I feel myself slipping, he asks me to tell him about the control room back home. I'm partway through my answer when I stop.

"Jay put you up to this?" I ask.

"He doesn't want you to lose your head in there. Come on, finish telling me."

A rush of gratitude towards Jay fills me. Even hundreds of miles away he is still looking after me. With Rotor's help I might get through this faster and so I continue talking about things that have always done a good job of distracting me.

When lunch is called, we're the first to go in and gather our food. As the other tributes start to sit I find the Pack is forming. Yesterday only a few tributes sat together, but always with their district partner. Today Districts One, Two, and Four are sitting together with only the District Four male sitting alone. The rest of the room looks nervous as we all know why they're sitting together. These will be the tributes to hunt the rest of us down.

"It was going to happen sometime," I tell Rotor.

All our playfulness from yesterday is gone and we eat in silence. Finishing quickly I go back into the training room while Rotor goes for a second helping. I climb up the cargo net and lay on my back at the top. Up high is where I've always gone when the nightmares begin to takeover and this spot is the best I can come up with.

I rack my brain questioning if I really do want to go home. A question that needs to be answered before I go into the arena. Jay told me I could beat these games, so why shouldn't I give it a go? I just don't know. All I do know is I won't give in without a fight.

Lunch has just ended as the tributes file back in to the training center. My time out from reality is over. I roll out of the netting and land on my feet. As I stand up I notice a few Gamemakers watching me rather impressed. Probably falling gracefully makes for good TV. By the end of the day, the Gamemakers curiosity with me comes and goes.

The third day of group training is fast drawing to a close. After lunch, we will be called in one by one for a private session with the Gamemakers. Rotor knows to be as impressive as possible. As he gets up to leave I realize how fond I've become of him over the last month. And my district voted him in. But it's the Capitol that holds the games. The Capitol that killed so many that I love. The Capitol that would just love to see me cry out pitifully as I die.

The other tributes look up startled when I pound the table. I'm going to go into those games fighting. Not sure if I'll do any killing of other tributes, but the arena's mutts are fair game.

"Falon Dawnson."

As I go, I notice Colvin looking at me. His district partner nudges him and says something. Probably something to do with the fact that in a few days we are rivals for our lives. That's the point of the games for the tributes isn't it?

My blood is boiling when I walk in. Above me many of the Gamemakers lounge in their chairs holding wine glasses. Most of them are full, but that's not to say this is their first glass. Some of them sit up wondering what I'll do. Funny thing is so am I.

"Whenever you're ready," a Gamemaker tells me. In other words 'get moving'.

I walk over to the throwing knives and pick up five. Looking around the training center I start placing knives near certain stations. After placing the last one at the bottom of the rope climb, I spring into action. First I rush up the ropes and swing by my arms until I reach the middle. Once there I let go and shoulder roll until I'm next to the knife. In a heartbeat I pick it up and hurl it at the nearest dummy getting a solid stick in the neck.

That's got their attention. Next I rush over the gauntlet, grabbing the second knife as I go. Hopping from platform to platform was difficult during training and I know they were watching me then so I want to show them I've improved. While leaping to the highest platform I throw the knife behind me sticking it in the pole marking the starting point.

I'm almost out of time. Booking it to the other side I stop in the center of a bunch of dummies. With the remaining three knives, I drive one into each of the blue objects around me.

"Thank you, Miss Dawnson, you may go."

With a bow, I exit the room and into the elevators.

Upstairs, Rotor is chit-chatting with Anna. When I walk in they both turn to me.

"What's going on?"

"It appears, my dear, that a pair of tributes would like to form an alliance with you," says Anna. "I found out after you went into training or I would've told you sooner."

"Which districts?" I ask

"The tributes from Twelve," says Rotor.

Thinking back just before my private session I read something in Colvin 's look. Now I know what it is. Rotor and I had gone down early to practice and his note must've come after that. He was wondering what my answer is.

"Let's talk about it later," I say. "How did your session go?"

Rotor gives a halfhearted smile. "I showed them I could survive. Built a fire and did the eatable plants and bug tables. Did you throw knives around?"

"With a little flare," I say. "Hopefully we can get some decent scores so we can have good sponsors."

Anna smiles her big toothy grin. "That won't be a problem dear. You already have several admirers from the Opening Ceremonies. I think most of them plan to be your sponsors."

I try to look pleased. But I'm not sure I can hide how happy I am that I've won sponsors by showing skin. Somehow it feels degrading, but then good looking tributes always do get the most sponsors. "That's good news."

My eyes dart off to the elevator. For the second time it went to the eleventh floor. When fifteen minutes pass, and the elevator is moving again, I press the button to go up. The doors open and Colvin is leaning against the wall. He starts when he sees me and I walk on. The elevator starts to rise again but I find the switch that cuts the power and we come to a halt with only the safety lights on.

Before he can get too nervous I face him. "Only just got your message. So is it your offer to team up? Or should I be talking to your friend?"

"I want to team up," he says quickly. "Some of the others have marked you and your friend as easy prey."

"District Five usually gets killed in the first four days. Of course we're easy. But why should that be of concern to you?"

"You're different," he says. "Both of us are crowd favorites and if we pool our sponsors we can probably get a good supply of food and there's safety in numbers."

Something about this offer isn't quite right. Sure it's a make and later break deal, but there's something deeper to this. "Any deals I make come with Rotor."

"Done," he says without hesitation.

I study him some more. "And I want the answer to the smirk during the opening ceremonies."

"Why don't you come up and see the roof?"

I have to go up anyway before I can get back to my floor. Without a word I flip the switch and we continue to rise. Colvin opens the door that says "roof access" and waits for me to go first. Why I am slightly giddy about this has escaped me, but I like the feeling.

When we're outside you can see the whole Capitol as the lights turn on for night. So this is where most of our power goes while the rest of the country does without. I've read the meters for the other districts and they hardly use five percent of what the Capitol does.

I raise an eyebrow for an explanation.

"They can't hear us up here," he says.

"So are you going to tell me?"

He looks at me and sighs. "Twelve didn't exactly hold an election on who to send in."

"You volunteered?" For a brief moment I think I'm not the only crazy person in these games.

"No. Rather than vote on a pair of tributes, my district voted, unanimously, that we would draw names from the Reaping Ball. Whoever got picked would go in."

I smile amazed at their brilliance and I wonder why I didn't think of that. But then something else hits. Unlike most of the tributes, Twelve is a district that didn't send them here out of prejudice. They would want their tributes to come home and would be welcomed when they did. It's even better than what I did.

"You've got yourself an alliance. I swear that I will not harm you or her so long as we are still in an alliance together," I say.

"And you have my word that I will not harm you or Rotor."

We talk for a little while longer. I give him the strategy I formed with Jay and Rotor. Someone comes up and summons Colvin to dinner and I realize how late we've been talking.

Colvin walks me to the elevator and I slide down alone. When the doors open, I go straight to the table and sit down.

Rotor looks at me expectantly and I nod. We have allies

Our stylists show up after we are just finishing the first course. Leo comes over and plants a kiss on my cheek. "How are you, my dear?"

I really don't like him or Anna calling me 'my dear' but there's no point in arguing. "Well enough. You?"

"Never better, never better," he assures.

Camry sits down. "What did you do in your training sessions?"

Neither of us are up to talking about it, but Rotor answers, "I demonstrated what I learned in survival training. Falon did something with knives."

"How do you think you did?" Leo asks.

"We'll find out soon enough," I say.

We finish dinner with the normal gossip that drives me insane. I have absolutely no idea who they're talking about, but Anna and the stylists do and react as if the smallest things are the biggest scandals they've ever heard. Apparently a bad hair cut warrants a national emergency.

Apparently Rotor and I have the same idea that if we eat quickly we can excuse ourselves to wait by the TV. I laugh when we finish at the same moment. We don't wait for their response, but just get up and run. Next thing I know we have the board set up for a game of chess.

"So what do you think?" Rotor asks.

I move my rook to take his pawn. "That we have to put up with this for two more nights. I don't think I've ever been so happy to go into that arena."

Rotor gives a nervous laugh. It's obvious he's scared, but then so am I. The others join us just as the program is starting. Each tributes face comes up one by one followed by a score. I've watched enough of the tributes to know what they are capable of and even noticed a couple hanging back. The District Seven girl had her eyes on the axes all training, but never touched them. Like some others, she was holding back until today.

Quickly the announcers come to us.

"From District Five. Rotor North with a score of five."

"Nice," I say.

My face is shown on the screen. "And Falon Dawnson with a score of nine."

"Oh," Anna cries out. "That's the second highest tonight!"

She's right, except for the fact that three others got the same score. Districts One, Two, and Four all got at least an eight. District One's boy got the highest with a ten. One by one the faces and scores pass. Finally we get to Colvin and he receives a seven followed by the girl, Clea Wolf, with a score of four.

The next day, Anna has us up bright and early. Today is preparation day for the interviews tomorrow night. This means I'm in a dress again and high-heals to boot. All the time I'm thinking how neither article would be permitted at work. Too much of a safety issue. A couple hours go by of learning how to sit properly, waive to the crowd, smile (lots of smiling), and other things. It's about mid-afternoon before we break for lunch and I'm feeling less than lady-like at the moment.

Again the servers are up to their normal gossip. Across the table, Rotor is picking at his food. He lost interest in the conversation before it even began. Not that I blame him.

Anna lightly touches the edges of her mouth with a napkin. "Well, I think that you two have done splendidly today. I think both of you will do well in the interviews so why don't you have the rest of the day off. I'll just be off talking with my friends to get you more sponsors."

We are left in the apartment with just the servers to look out for us. Rotor is sweating and I'm afraid he's sick. Placing a hand on his forehead I realize he's burning up.

"You've got a fever. Come on, you need to get some sleep."

I get him to his room and pull the covers up on him. I get him a glass of water and make him drink and fill it again just in case. As I get up to leave him in peace, his hand grabs mine.

"Please don't leave me."

Looking around the room I find a chair and drag it over to his bedside.

"How are you so calm?" he asks.

I push a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "By not thinking about it. You have to distract yourself by doing something that takes your mind elsewhere."

His eyes stare into mine, "Where do you go."

"In my tree house with my father. The night before he wouldn't have to work, we'd always climb up there and have a camp out during the warm months. So, you need to picture yourself doing something that made you happy. Remembering a smell helps even more."

His mind starts to drift as I ask him questions about his place and why it makes him happy. Eventually his eyes close as he falls asleep. My own mind wanders for a little bit before I fall asleep in my chair.

When I wake up, I check his temperature again. I think he feels cooler, but that might be wishful thinking. My stomach grumbles so I walk over to the machine with a large menu and all you have to do is click what you want and it appears. However I have no interest in Capitol delicacies at the moment and I order a bowl of mixed fruit.

It's close to dinner time when Rotor wakes up. He feels a little better, but not completely. I order him a bowl of soup and sit there while he eats it. A little more rest and he should be fine. If not we're going to be in big trouble. I won't abandon him at the Cornucopia and a sick ally is a problem for everyone. My promises to Rotor come before anything I promised with Twelve's tributes.

A server comes in to get us for dinner. When he sees what's going on he leaves the room and comes back with a glass of water and some pills. "These will help with the fever," he says.

"Thank you," I say. I take the items and turn back to Rotor. "You heard him."

Rotor nods and does as he's told. "You should go to dinner. I'll be fine now."

"All right," I say. I take the finished soup bowl away before leaving. "I'll come back later to check on you."

"Thanks."

The next morning, Rotor is with us for breakfast eating normally. My gratitude for the medicine is mixed with my hate for the Capitol for withholding these medical miracles from the districts. My boss, Elian, told me once that many of the things people from the districts die from could be easily cured at the Capitol. Said that it was very rare that women died in childbirth here while it happens all too frequently back home. Once he saw the look on my face he shut up remembering this was how I lost my mother. I suppose I should be upset about that. Still, I'm happy Rotor is back on track.

The preps engulf us and sweep us into our rooms. For the better part of the day, they are doing all sorts of things to me, but I ignore the process. They want it to be a surprise so I'm not even allowed to look in the mirror yet. To keep myself occupied I try to figure out how much power the equipment must be using and can't help but be a bit annoyed that the smallest of their tools probably uses up more electricity in an hour than Jay and I do in a day.

Leo comes in with my dress and I'm just hoping not to show that much skin. Wishful thinking. I can't complain too much since my chest is covered this time, but barely. It worries me that the only thing holding this dress up in front is a diamond studded collar sewed into the dress, wrapped around my neck, and connected to a little fabric in the back. Once again I have a giant slit in the skirt and there will be no hiding it behind a chariot this time.

In the end, my overall appearance makes me feel like an elusive fox. From the color of my dress to my makeup I might easily pull that personality out. All I have to do is remember to play along.

Rotor comes out wearing a tasteful suit accented with, of all things, lightning bolts. We all pile into the elevator and go down to the stage that rests in front of the training center. All the other tributes slowly start to show up. More than one male tribute stares at me and I can't help but feel a little self conscious. Twelve's entourage shows up and Colvin and Clea get into their positions.

"Let's go," a production man tells us repeatedly as we are taken to the stage. The crowd cheers as we all take our seats. Some crazy upbeat music starts playing and an announcer introduces our host, Marlin Oleander. The man himself dances on stage and I wonder if he can actually see how this might be embarrassing, but the crowd loves it and applauds. He wears the same black suit accented by some kind of reflective stones that I've seen on him when he conducts interviews with celebrities from the Capitol.

For a bit he talks about the excitement surrounding the first Quell and gets the audience pumped for the first tribute. The girl from District One stands up and takes her seat in the interview chair.

Three minutes are given for each tribute before the next takes their place. Marlin asks random questions, but one he keeps eluding to is their feelings on being chosen by their district for these games. I think back on how the recap on the reaping showed me going to the ball and picking out a name and I have the perfect answer for him.

Some of the tributes talk about what an honor it is for them to be chosen by their district, but I can see their resentment under their features, the betrayal. The District Four boy sits down and now it's my turn.

_Just play along,_ I think.

Sometimes at work we have a little free time to goof off. A couple months ago, before this whole quell thing, we pretended to be Capitolists walking down the catwalk during a fashion show. We nearly fell on the floor laughing when the guys joined in. But when it came to be my turn the others grew worried. I had pulled it off so well they warned me not to let the Peacekeepers see. It might get me into trouble.

Putting on a sly smile, I walk to center stage. I let my hips swing more than I ever would at home. In fact I'm not sure that my hips swing at all when I normally walk. Cat calls and whistles from the audience get louder and more frequent as I approach the edge of the stage. Hand on my hip I look out into the audience and they cheer louder.

"Falon," Marlin says shaking my hand. "Such a pleasure it is to meet you."

"And you. Never thought I'd get the opportunity," I say with a smile like Anna taught me.

Some laughs from the crowd as we take our seats.

"That's right," says Marlin. "This year would've been your last in the Reaping. You might've never come to the Capitol. Must've come as quite a shock that you would be joining us for the Quell."

"Not really," I say offhandedly.

This takes Marlin aback. "No?"

I shrug. "I'm a logical choice from several different angles."

This has everyone's attention, especially Marlin who is attempting to find some way to spin this. "Such as?"

"For starters, I'm completely insufferable. I learn everything thrown at me so quickly that it became a game back home to find something I wasn't good at. Maybe their reasoning was they want to see me in the ultimate challenge. Or it's possible they think I have a chance of winning."

This isn't going the way he wanted it to so he tries again. "Well, it sounds plausible. But I must ask one question that some of my friends want to know is why you laughed at the reaping?"

I act surprised and play coy. "Oh, you saw that? I didn't think the cameras were rolling then. Um, well, like you said this would've been my last year so I wanted to see who would've gone in if not for the rules of the Quell." I wait a moment and look sheepish. "I laughed because I chose my own name. I guess I'd be here anyway."

Never once all week have I felt so much satisfaction at anything I've done. But I play innocent at having done anything defiant. I've played the angle at being able to figure things out, but not people. Jay told me this is one thing I must steer clear of if I wanted to avoid getting into mind-games with the Gamemakers. A game that I would lose.

The buzzer sounds. "Sorry but that means we're out of time. I know many will join me in saying 'may the odds be ever in your favor'."

Some of the audience joined in with him.

"Good luck, Falon Dawnson, tribute from District Five."

On the way back I walk normally. What must they be saying back home? Most likely that I've gone completely off my rocker. Maybe I have. Rotor's eyes meet mine questioning if what I just said was true and I roll my eyes. He regains his composure and walks to take his seat in the interview chair.

Marlin doesn't even bother asking him about his feelings about being tribute, but rather gets him to talk about himself. Jay made sure we knew what we absolutely must not do. Thankfully he's listening and not saying anything against the Capitol.

With his time up he comes back to his seat and I give him a thumbs up. And now we have to sit for forty-two some odd minutes while the remaining tributes give it a go in the interview chair.

Partway through I'm starting to get a headache. I don't even hear the interviews from 8-11. Before I know it, Colvin is finishing his interview. He goes back to his seat and we all rise for the anthem. All throughout the camera goes from one tribute to the next and when it ends we file back to the lobby of the Training Center. I get a glimpse of Colvin before getting onto the elevator. He smiles at me and I can't help but smile back. Tomorrow we'll be tossed into the arena and hopefully we'll be able to get our alliance together.

Time is not something I have anymore. Dinner goes by so quickly and before I know it, we're all in the sitting room watching the replay of the interviews. Anna says good-bye while the stylists tell us they will see us in the morning. There is a sense of finality as the elevator closes behind them.

"I'm going to clean up. We can play chess or something after," I tell Rotor.

The minutes remaining in my life are counting down in my head. I stay in the shower a long time before I finally step out. Slipping into a warm nightgown, I join Rotor in the sitting room.

Three and then four hours pass, but neither of us says we should go to bed. As we play, we go over our strategy. I make Rotor repeat it back to me so he knows where to run. Eventually neither of us can keep our eyes open and go to our rooms. In the back of my mind I wonder if death is as easy as falling asleep, like Boron did. I hope so.


	2. The Arena

**The Arena**

Leo is there to wake me in the morning. Sleepily I get up and let him put a bathrobe on me. He escorts me to the roof where a hovercraft waits for us. An electrical current freezes me to the ladder and instantly jolts me awake.

Some woman in white comes up to me and injects a stabbing needle into my arm. The Gamemakers don't like losing a tribute in the arena and so they've come up with a tracking device a couple years ago that gets planted deep into the skin. So long as that arm is attached to the tribute, the Gamemakers will always know where we are and if we're alive.

Leo soon joins me and we're given a room to sit and eat breakfast. I stuff myself knowing that most likely I'll be starving in the days to come. My bravado that I've been running on this whole time is quickly disappearing. I try to rally back, but I only get more scared.

_This is just more Tracker venom,_ I tell myself over and over. It's just another part of the nightmare. I'll wake up soon and my father will be there telling me it's time to go to school. Boron will be outside and we'll race to see who's first. All I have to do is keep my head and wait it out.

Once at the catacombs of our arena, the Peacekeepers escort us to my room. My eyes are fixed on the tube that will send me up into the arena. Leo instructs me to shower and slip back into my robe until the clothes arrive. In the mean time he braids my hair and then puts it into a bun.

When the clothes arrive I'm shocked to see what is in the package. Except for the fact that everything is new and in sturdier fabric, this outfit closely resembles something I've seen people wear at home.

I slip into normal undergarments and put on regular pants and a red collared shirt followed by a hunter's jacket. The boots are nice and tight and fit great. I'll be able to run in them anyway.

"Not my favorite outfit on you, but it looks like it fits. Twist and bend to make sure."

I do as he says and do every movement I can think of. He's right, the clothes fit great and I actually feel comfortable in them.

"Last but not least," he says handing me my bracelet. So, the review board approved it after all.

I give it a tight squeeze before sliding it on my wrist. All we can do now is wait. Leo prattles about the different outfits that he's making like this will please me but all it's doing is annoy me. I eat a little more and drink a lot of water. Dehydration isn't the prettiest way to go in an arena.

Leo takes my hands in his. "You were such a pleasure to work with. I sincerely hope you make it out alive. Such beauty shouldn't disappear so quickly. Ah, but you know what they say about tributes. They come and go just like fashion trends."

Oh how I'd love to punch him across the face. Instead I let him make final adjustments on me before a woman comes over the speakers telling us to prepare to launch. Once on the metal plate a glass cylinder lowers around me. At last, silence.

My balance is thrown for a moment as the plate begins to rise into an abyss. Sunlight soon creeps into the darkness and I'm lifted outside. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light, but soon I'll get my first look at my surroundings.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the first Quarter Quell of the Hunger Games begin!"

The Cornucopia is right in front of me filled with all sorts of items. In the stretch between my plate and the Cornucopia is flat land with hard packed earth, perfect for getting in and out. Quickly I identify the objects I want, things I'll need in this arena.

Only a few seconds remain, not enough time to get a look at my surroundings. I do however have time to find Rotor standing on a platform six tributes to my left. My only hope of getting both of us through the day is for him to stick to the plan.

The gong rings out and I run as fast as I can to the supplies. Adrenaline pumping, I make it to the mouth of the horn and start grabbing weapons and other supplies and plan my escape.

The Pack tributes are right there with me, but have momentarily frozen. One girl shrieks out as she sees what I'm trying desperately to ignore, human skulls scattered throughout the supplies. But while they are getting over this shocking turn of events, I'm out with my supplies hurrying back to Rotor. Thankfully he's doing as he was told and stays on the plate opposite the Cornucopia to watch my retreat.

"Down!"

Instantly I fall to the ground just as a spear flies over me and sinks into the ground. I leap up and grab the spear as I run.

"Here," I say, tossing the spear to him. "Let's move."

We run as fast as we can from the starting point. I know behind me, the others are still hacking away at each other as some try to gather supplies while others take advantage of their distraction. One dead tribute means one step closer to getting out of here alive. There's no time for me to wonder if going in was a good idea. If not for those skulls I would've been in the thick of things, most likely dead. Well it's something to remember for later.

"Are you crazy going in like that?"  
Reflexively I pull out a knife to the speaker, but calm down when I see Colvin.

"Just a little," I say trying to get my breath back. "Where's your partner?"

"Safe at the moment. Wanted to make sure we're still on friendly terms before she comes out."

"Yea, we're still friendly," Rotor answers for us.

Colvin nods before calling out to Clea from inside the woods. She's out of breath and terrified. Not an ideal ally, but we have a deal.

"Where to? We got to get far enough away before the hunting starts," I say.

When Rotor and I had planned our strategy we agreed that I would get supplies and he would be in charge of getting us away from the Cornucopia. But now I've got two more involved and they won't want to be out of the decision making. At least not Colvin, Clea I think would go along with anything.

"The woods are as good as any. More cover," says Colvin.

"All right," says Rotor. "Falon, put the packs down. I'll carry them until you can get your breath back."

Colvin looks at him. "How about we each carry one? Come on this is supposed to be an alliance. We can share the load."

He swoops down and picks up one of the packs while Rotor takes the other. I catch sight of a pair of throwing knives in the side pocket of Rotor's bag. Right where I left them. Without saying anything I take both ready for a fight.

"Let's get this camping trip from Hades going," I announce.

Clea won't be any good for a little bit, so she is spared having to carry anything. Quickly we're on our way navigating through the woods. Thankfully there are no skulls out here to distract the others. That will be just one of my private nightmares in here.

A couple hours pass before Rotor asks for a break. We sort through the packs to see what I got away with. A couple blankets that reflect body heat, some food, iodine for purifying water, three water containers, a pocket knife, and three more good throwing knives.

With my adrenaline back to normal, my mind starts wandering back to what has happened today. The screams of the dying are mixing with the screams of those killed by the tracker jackers a few years ago.

Rotor leans in close to my eyes and I start. Immediately he apologizes.

"You all right?" Colvin asks.

I scramble desperately to find something to occupy my mind. Staying busy will be the only thing to keep my mind occupied. "I will be. We got to find water."

They nod and we all stand up. Colvin and Clea go first, but Rotor is waiting for me.

"Hey Rotor, thanks for saving me back there."

He nods and we catch up with the other two. We switch from running to walking as we trek further in. Still no signs of water, but we do have a few overly large apples. Taking one, I divide it into four slices.

"Youngest to oldest," I say.

Rotor picks a slice first and then Clea. The last two are different sizes and I expect Colvin to take the bigger one, but surprises me when he takes the smaller slice.

"Only fair," he says with a smile. "Without you, we wouldn't have anything."

I find myself smiling and take a bit into my slice savoring the juices. Afterwards we walk silently. Colvin takes the lead and I take the rear. Both of us want to keep the younger ones safe. At least I think that's the plan.

"How long do you think before they start coming after us?" Clea asks.

"When we hear the cannon fire," I reply. "That will mean anyone still alive is armed, supplied, and moving."

"There's a cheerful thought," says Rotor.

The sound of the cannon stops our conversation. Clea gets quite again while the rest of us are counting. Each blast signals the death of each tribute. On day one there are so many deaths that the Gamemakers wait until the survivors move away from the bloodbath so the hovercrafts will be coming in to retrieve the bodies.

For the first time since the games began, my district isn't sending someone home from the bloodbath. With any luck, we won't be sending one home today. One of my less cheerful thoughts is that all tributes get to go home eventually, just the majority will go in a box.

Already I imagine the journey. I am dead, the cannon signaling my death sounding through the arena. A hovercraft will lift what's left of me out of the arena where the Capitol will prepare my body before placing me in a simple wooden box. A train, not the fancy one that brought us here, will arrive at the station back home. Jay and a few others will be there waiting for me. Jay will climb up first and pick up the bracelet he gave me. Others will join him as they lift me down to the platform. People will stop their normal day-to-day lives as the procession goes through town to the Justice Building. Women will bring the outfit I laid out before leaving and dress me. Those that cared will pay their respects before my box is picked up once again and taken to the cemetery. In the end, I'll just be one more dead tribute.

"Fourteen," Clea whispers.

Fourteen. Only ten people left in the arena, three are with me leaving six to hunt. But what bothers me is this is the highest number of deaths at any bloodbath. I know, I looked up the statistics. So many deaths in one day. In a couple hours we'll find out who is still in the game.

"Times up," says Rotor.

"Let's move then," says Colvin taking the lead.

Dusk is fast approaching when we find an ideal camping spot. It's up high with a good look at our surroundings. Not to mention multiple areas of escape if we get attacked by something. Most important, we now have a source of water. Rotor takes care of purifying the water while I do a sweep around the area for food.

There are a lot of berries around and only a few I recognize from training or those that grow inside the fence back home. Just to be safe I'll have the others look at them before we consume. Breaking off as much as I can carry, I head back to camp.

Colvin stands guard over the camp when I get back. I show them what I've found.

"It's pitiful, but it's something," I say.

"I found chickweed," says Clea cheerfully. "My family eats it all the time."

As it turns out, dinner isn't all that bad. I'm still hungry, but my stomach isn't complaining as loudly. The temperature is getting cooler and we whip out the blankets. We share according to district since the only other configuration involving one small person and one bigger person would mean Rotor and Colvin having to share. Somehow I don't see that happening.

There's no telling how long we'll end up staying in here. With more than half of the tributes gone, I'd say this will probably be a short game, a week at most. If they want to drag it out, they'll separate us and see how each of us do on our own. But they'll be disappointed. I'm not leaving Rotor.

Our attention is directed to the sky where some kind of projection screen has been brought into the arena. The Capitol seal appears along with the start of the anthem. One by one come today's deaths. I'm surprised when the first face I see belongs to the District One girl. Her face is followed by both from 3, the boy from 4, and both from 6, 7, and eight. The next face is the girl from 9 followed by the boy from 10. That leaves the final two deaths from District 11.

Fourteen dead in one day. Two of them I supposed would be in the Pack. Who killed them, I have no idea. Could it be possible that they killed each other? They were the two that fought with each other in the training room. District 4 sat by himself after that. It is possible.

In the end it leaves a Pack of four and two stragglers. The question is how long will we be able to keep our alliance before the Gamemakers separate us or we do it for them?

"I'll take first watch," says Rotor.

I'm too tired to disagree. "Wake me when it's my turn."

With that I curl up on the ground and fall asleep. If I dream, I'm not aware of it, but when Colvin wakes me for my watch my mind is blank. A few seconds pass before I remember that I'm not in my backyard but in an arena. We keep silent as we trade places.

Despite Colvin's careful attempts not to disturb her, Clea wakes up briefly before turning him into a pillow. The sight brings a smile to my face reminding me of home when I would do the same with my dad as a child.

My attention turns to Rotor. Only one of us can go home alive. He still hasn't answered if he wants to go home yet. I think Colvin means for Clea to go home, but that's not likely to happen. Not unless Colvin and she are the last ones standing and Colvin takes his own life. Isn't that what I've thought of doing for Rotor?

Everything is quite while I watch, not that I trust it. Maybe tonight we were given a break because there are so few playing now. Or maybe there's a trap that we'll all walk into later today. But then there'll be even fewer players to torment. As if to ease my mind a basket fixed to a parachute falls in the middle of our camp. Inside is breakfast of some rolls with jams and hard boiled eggs.

I turn my head up and mouth 'thank you'. Until everyone is up and alert I don't want to make any extra noise. Clea is the first to wake up, fully refreshed, followed by Rotor, and Colvin.

Colvin looks around startled for a moment. "Did you let Clea watch at all?"

"No need," I say. "I couldn't turn my brain off."

"You are going to be tired later," Rotor warns.

I look at him playfully, "Two words: Night Shift."

"Never mind then," Rotor says rolling his eyes. But the other two are looking at me quizzically so I have to explain.

"When I first started working at the power plant a few years ago, I was put on the night shift a few days a week. Would start my shift around midnight and that would go until eight. Depending on how close to eight decided how fast I had to run to get to school on time. I'd sleep after school until it was time to leave. Did that for about a year before they moved me to the afternoon shift in the Control Room."

"We never go to the mines to start work until we're eighteen," says Clea. "How young were you when you started?"

"Sixteen," I reply. "But only a few work in the plant before they finish school."

"Yea, the brains," says Rotor as he picks up one of the rolls. "These aren't bad."

The amount of inactivity by the Gamemakers worries me and I think soon the heat will be turned up. "Eat while you still can. We need to get moving. This food won't last more than a few days and we aren't guaranteed gifts like this," I say fiddling with the basket.

Clea sits up and smiles proudly. "If you catch me something, I can clean it. The butcher taught me how to clean game."

After repacking the bags and filling up the water containers we decide to head further into the woods. We're lucky to be able to find any water sources. Dehydration is a popular method in the games. It was how one of our tributes went a few years back. He managed to live five days in the arena before the cannon fired for him.

We continue on, carrying eatable plants as we go. In the afternoon we break for a little bit.

"Excuse me a moment," says Rotor.

"Stay close," I remind him.

More than ever I'm worried. The Gamemakers never leave tributes alone this long, especially not a group of tributes. There's no other logical explanation, we're walking straight into the traps. Either that or the Pack is close on our heels.

A scream rents through the air. It's Rotor's.

I'm on my feet in a flash running for him with knives out. Bursting through the foliage I expect to find some kind of mutt or another tribute, but instead only see Rotor wreathing in pain the heel of his hands pressed firmly into his eyes.

There's… nothing. Nothing at all here, so what hurt him?

Colvin comes into the clearing clutching the spear. "What happened?"

Rotor doesn't answer as his teeth clench in pain. My mind races back to my lessons with Jay. Water, he needs to wash his eyes out in water.

"Back to camp," I say.

Clea is biting her nails, but gets the water bottle as soon as I ask for it.

"Rotor I need you to open your eyes wide," I tell him.

He cries out again as I pour the liquid over his eyes.

"He's going to need all of it," I tell the others.

"We don't know where the next source is," Colvin points out.

Clea ignores him and hands me the water containers giving him a sharp look. I give her a smile as I twist the second cap off. By the time I'm done emptying the third, Rotor has relaxed. His eyes strain as he looks at everything.

"How many fingers do you see?" Colvin asks.

"I-I can't tell. Everything's blurry," says Rotor.

"What got you?" I ask.

"Some kind of lizard. I only saw it for a second before it spit whatever that was into my face."

Colvin looks at me, "Mutt."

My first response is 'you think?' but I hold my tongue. It's too early for us to be fighting with each other. If this alliance is going to last more than a couple of days, we need to stay friendly, so I simply nod my head.

The Gamemakers must've gone after Rotor because he spent his private session demonstrating survival training. Maybe they think that with him blinded we won't survive as well as we did with him. Or maybe it was because they wanted us to get rid of our water. Whatever the case, we're crippled.

"Let's get out of here," says Colvin picking up a pack. "I don't want to find out if that thing has friends."

Clea gets up and follows him. I grab our other pack and guide Rotor along the forest path. At first it's difficult working out a way to travel, but soon Rotor and I come up with a way for me to guide him without him tripping over everything.

The sun blazes overhead and by dusk we still can't find water. We pick a place to camp and this time Clea and Colvin go to gather while I guard. Examining Rotor's eyes doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Both eyes are extremely red where the white part should be and his pupils huge. I want to wash them out again, but we have nothing for that and my only hope is that the others found something. I make Rotor sit down and wrap a blanket around him to lessen his shivering and we wait.

Their load is no better than mine was last night and we eat roots and berries again. We all want more and I pull out the dried meat and give everyone have three pieces each but Rotor shakes his head.

"Better save that," he says. "I can't pull my weight anymore."

"You eat them, or I won't," I say. "I won't eat anything that you don't, got it."

Rotor's shoulders slumped grumpily, "Jay said you'd be stubborn. But I didn't think this bad."

"Oh," I say. "You think I'm stubborn now, just you wait Rotor North. You haven't seen anything yet."

He cracks a smile. "I don't think I'll be seeing much any time soon."

Colvin holds back a smile until I chuckle a bit.

Night arrives, but there are no faces in the sky today. This can't bode well for a good night's sleep. Then my eye catches a parachute caught in the trees above us.

"Watch him," I say walking over to the large trunk. I may have only climbed one type of tree in my life, but I know how to climb it without using anything besides the bark and branches to pull myself further into the tree.

The branch the parachute is caught on won't hold my weight for long and it'd be a long drop if I fell. Using the branch above me I slowly inch my way down the limb. In no time I have it untangled as it drifts down to the others.

"Is there anything you don't do?" Colvin asks when I land on the ground.

"If you must know I'm horrible at anything to do with art. Can't draw and never ask me to sing if you value your ears," I tease. "You're not complaining are you?"

"Not at all," Colvin laughs. I like his laugh. "Just curious. We got a pair of… sunglasses."

There's a hint of sarcasm in his voice and for good reason. What use is a pair of sunglasses to us? But then I remember how Rotor refused to look at the light like it hurt him or something. It may not be medicine, but it might help him. We'll just have to wait until morning to see.

Again we cut up another apple and I let Clea and Colvin chose first. Rotor takes his without complaint. We're going to have to tough out a night with empty stomachs and in serious need of water. With nothing more to do, we settle in for the night, Clea taking the first watch.

Rotor's hand accidentally touches my skin and I nearly leap up. "You're freezing."

He only nods his head as his teeth chatter.

I'm a little ticked that he hasn't said anything. Honestly sometimes I think that this alliance is to determine which of us is most stubborn. "Remember what Jay said would keep us warmer?"

Rotor nods his head. "By making every male whoever had a crush on you envious."

"How does that work?" Clea asks genuinely puzzled.

Our answer is more or less cuddling with each other sharing our body heat. Instantly Colvin rolls over in a fit of laughter. Rotor, on the other hand, is blushing slightly. Well, that will warm him up also.

"Oh," is all Clea can manage which sends me laughing as well.

Between the blanket that reflects body heat and me, Rotor is able to warm up enough to stop his teeth chattering. As I fall asleep I think of how close Rotor has become to me, not from a physical standpoint, but an emotional one. When he screamed, I didn't question what attacked him only that I had to get to him. Ever since then I've worried over the effect of the attack and how much pain it was causing him. One of the things I made myself accept was that one of us would die before the other and I had to prepare myself in case it was him first. Yet after all of that I still let him become important to me. I've lost too many important people. But I know there will always be more until it is my turn to die and I find myself hoping it will be in here.

It's about mid-morning when Clea points up to a bunch of fruit in the trees. I recognize the fruit from training, but they are really high up.

"If only we could get to them," says Colvin.

"Who says we can't?" I say. "I climb remember?"

"This is higher up than the one last night," Colvin points out.

"Yep, and the tree in my backyard is even higher and I've climbed that one to the top. Stop your fussing. It's hardly forty feet up there."

This tree is even easier than the one last night. Knowing it will take awhile to get up there, I let my mind wander to back home. What are they thinking, seeing me team up with another pair of tributes, keeping Rotor around despite his disability, and… actually having a little fun in here.

Eventually, I'm on the braches above the food and that's when I hear them.

"_Trackers!"_

_Immediately my father's arms are around me pushing me into the rock crevice. "Falon get down!" _

"_Don't run to the district fools!"_

"_Smoke! We need smoke!"_

_Then the screaming starts turning my blood to ice._

"_Daddy?" I cry._

"_It'll be over soon, Lynn. Just stay still."_

_But the screaming gets louder and closer. Just over my father's shoulder I see someone batting at the air. First I only see small black dots, but they soon turn into a small dark cloud. The man is teetering on the edge of our crater and loses his balance. _

_My father pulls my face into his chest and wraps himself tighter around me. His grip tightens and then loosens so rapidly it's almost like a heartbeat. Something pinches me on my arm, then another, and I let out a small squeak. _

_I feel so sick right now as my vision becomes unstable. He pulls away from me and I can't believe what I see. The hallucinations have already started. It's my father, I know it is, but he is completely unrecognizable. I look at his hands swollen up like a balloon and I don't know what's happening to him. _

"_Just play along," he croaks. _

Slowly I come back to my senses. Nothing I see is out of the ordinary. The branch beneath me hasn't shattered into a thousand pieces, no multicolored spiders crawling on my body. Below me, my alliance waits expectantly.

_Just play along,_ I think over and over again forcing myself to stay in the present. I work out the logic. Nothing will happen to me as long as I don't disturb the nest. But I am close, too close to the nest that I want to back away immediately. I'm about to do this when I see it is right above me. If I move now we could all be attacked. But my life should be the only one at risk.

"Get out of here," I whisper. My mind clears as my need to protect them settles in. My voice is stronger now. "Get out of here. Trackers."

"What about you?" Rotor shouts back.

"All or one of us if I agitate this thing," I reply. "I'll catch up if it's safe."

Colvin stares at me for a moment before pushing Clea to move. Rotor stays a little longer before Colvin leads him away. I can't see his face, but I'm sure he's worried for me.

I don't move an inch until they are well out of sight. All the while I'm trying to keep my breathing steady and not think about that day four years ago. So far the yellow hornets haven't come out for a visit and I slowly slide out from under the nest. Slowly, very slowly I climb down the first few branches. The swarm sounds louder and I panic climbing down faster until I'm close enough to the ground to jump. Once there I bolt into the trees. I have just enough sense to not run the same direction as the others.

Far isn't far enough from those things. How my mind was focused on escaping I don't know, but my terror is returning quickly. As soon as I'm certain I wasn't followed or stung I slump against a tree and slide down. I pull my knees close to my body and rest my forehead on top of them. And then I begin to hyperventilate.

Inside my head I can hear the taunting of the Peacekeepers back home when a tribute gets frightened or falls apart like I have. It's enough to get me to stop. I won't give them the satisfaction. Part of me wants to snap back that what I think is funny is their three comrades that screamed like frightened little girls before they died.

I spin my bracelet round and round figuring out the pattern that it was woven. Jay's soothing voice comes back to me and I know I'll be all right. Well, now I know my reaction would be if I came across another nest. I'll turn into a sitting duck.

About an hour passes before I'm calm enough to get moving. I toss the stick I used to etch equations in the dirt before standing up. My belly rumbles demanding to be fed. Trouble is all the food is with the others. That means it's time to put my survival training to the test.

Walking in the direction I figure the others to be in I keep my eyes open for anything to eat. Nothing will get me to climb another tree right now, so everything I see is my height or lower.

After about a half hour of wandering, I come across a lake. My reasoning gets pushed to the side and I plunge my head in and drink my fill. But that's not what thrills me the most. An arrow leaf like plants are growing all around and my belly rumbles with anticipation. The katniss plant was one of the plants pointed out both by Jay and the trainer.

I spend several minutes digging to find the potato like roots. You can eat them raw, but it is better to boil them, I think. Without supplies, I can't boil them anyway, so raw it is. With my belly satisfied, I pull up as many plants as I can carry for the others.

Just as I'm about to leave I realize I can carry more. Easily I could unwind a bit of my bracelet to tie a bundle together. After what happened today and how calm it made me I don't want to part with it yet. But Jay gave it to me to be of use in the arena, not just for decoration. Grudgingly I take my bracelet off and with my knife cut a small portion off.

In the end the load is larger and easier to carry. If only I had some way of carrying the water, but in the end I don't so I stuff the rest of my bracelet in my pocket and go searching for the others. If they continued in a straight line I should run into them before dark. However there is the possibility of them needing to stop for breaks or if they waited for me somewhere. I pause. Rotor would insist on waiting a safe distance away and I think Colvin and Clea would agree.

Night falls quickly and I still haven't found them. I weigh my options and decide to continue on a little longer. Jay would probably question this since the woods would be most dangerous at night. Best to keep my senses sharp.

The cannon fires, stopping me in my tracks. If that was one of the others…

I have to get to them. Dodging trees and pushing through foliage I dash through the woods. Several minutes pass, but there is still no sign of them. No additional cannons fire and I calm down a bit. If they had been attacked by something surly I would've heard two more shots. It must be either the boy from Nine or the girl from Ten unless the Pack turned on one of their members or fell into a trap. I don't want to consider it being Rotor's cannon no matter the possibility.

Then, off in the distance less than a mile away, I spot the rising smoke of a campfire. Mixed emotions about seeing this are stirring inside me. Rotor knows better than to light a fire except at dusk. But then it lets me know where they are as well. Or is it them?

I'm still a little ways away when the anthem starts. Pausing a moment I look up to see whose face is in the sky. It is the girl from District Ten. I breathe a little easier now, but that doesn't mean we're all out of danger. Missing the tracker nest most likely disappointed the viewers. The death of the girl will satisfy this need for only a short while before they demand more blood. They always have.

As I near the campsite, I go slower and quieter. If this is my group, I'll simply walk in after announcing myself. But if it's the Pack, then I'll have to see about slipping back out unnoticed.

A high pitched scream echoes around me and I know its Clea's. Dropping the katniss on the ground I whip out my knives. Forget being exhausted, my need to get to them outweighs everything else.

"Run! Clea run!" Colvin yells.

In the moonlight I see a small figure running through trees and I make a beeline for her. Blood pumping I catch sight of the girl from Four chasing after her. She's so focused on her prey that she doesn't realize I'm hunting her now.

I hear Clea crashing to the floor.

"Please! You don't have to do this."

District Four laughs in triumph. "Don't you understand the rules?"

I crash into the clearing furious, "Do you?"

She looks up just in time to see my knife flying at her chest. The girl doesn't even make a sound as she slumps to the ground.

Clea turns to me terrified, but then her terror turns to relief. "Falon!"

I rush over to her and hug her just as the cannon fires. "You all right?"

She nods her head vigorously as she tries to catch her breath.

"The others," Clea cries. "They're back there."

"I know. Go over there and stay hidden. I'll be back for you soon," I say.

As she stands up her head starts to turn towards the dead girl, but I force it back to look at me.

"Don't look. Don't think about it. I got some food back there, go and find it."

Clea nods again and hurries away. I push aside the emotions I'm feeling right now and what I have to do. Retrieving my knife makes me feel sick, but I need it.

Following the broken foliage I'm able to get to their campsite quickly. My fury is quenched when I see Rotor struggling on the ground. For a moment I can't move. I promised. I promised myself he wouldn't die alone. Colvin has a cut on his arm, but bravely holds his ground against the boy from District Two. Nearby, his partner tribute watches.

"Come on, Quintus. Nerissa and I already got ours," she teases.

"Just giving them a show, Attica," he responds. "Besides, yours is still moving."

"He'll be dead so enough," she replies.

Attica just shrugged her shoulders like this was every day conversation. Rotor is nothing to her, but everything to me. My wrath comes back in waves stronger than anything I've ever felt.

"Dielectric!"

My mind registers the word and I blink in recognition. The world around me slowly comes back into focus. In front of me, I have Attica pinned against a tree terror in her eyes. Me, she's terrified of me. Then I realize I'm holding a knife to her throat.

_What am I doing,_ I think.

I let go immediately and she scrambles away from me.

"Get out," I growl.

Attica doesn't need told twice and she flees through the trees. When I turn around, Rotor is on his knees holding his side staring up at me. He cracks a smile before collapsing to the ground.

"Rotor!"

In less than a heartbeat I'm beside him, his head in my lap. I look at the wound and there's blood, so much blood and I'm certain it's fatal. He stares up at me, his teeth gritted in pain, but he forces his lips into a smile.

"Told them you'd be back," he says. "Looks like I finally beat you at something."

Rotor coughs a few times squeezing his eyes tight, the effort taking him from me. "I get to go home first."

Tears fill my eyes, but I smile also and grab his hand in mine and hold tight. "You cheated."

He sticks his tongue out at me and I can't help but laugh.

"Thank you," he whispers. "I liked playing your game."

"I hope so. Not much of a fan of the other version."

His eyes are dropping, his breathing growing shallow. "Yea? Don't do that again."

"I promise," I say.

His grip relaxes and the lights in his eyes fade. I call his name, but he doesn't answer or move. Another cannon fires and I know he's gone. Shakily I close his eyes and I pull him close.

Colvin comes up beside me. "Falon?"

I don't take my eyes off of Rotor. "You need to get Clea. She's back there probably terrified right now."

Colvin grips my shoulders and stares at me with disbelief. "They didn't get her?"

As soon as I shake my head he leaves me with Rotor. Carefully I lower him to the ground. After moving a few strands of hair out of his face I bend over and kiss him on the forehead.

"Bye, Rotor."

Supplies, I need to pick up the supplies. Our packs are close to the fire but the Pack left a few as well. And then I see him, Quintus laying motionless. How he died or who killed him, I don't know, but given what happened tonight it's probably me.

Blindly I move around the camp gathering every pack and weapon I spot. I force myself to go back to Rotor to see if he has anything around him and find the sunglasses and a cruel looking hunting knife covered in blood.

There is one of two things I can do right now. Either I can leave it here or take it with me. The revulsion of using the knife that killed Rotor increases, but I can't let the Gamemakers think I'm squeamish about what will have to happen if someone in my group is to win.

An idea hits me and I slowly stand up grasping the blade of the knife. In a flash I whip around and throw it into the tree I pinned Attica against. It lands with a solid stick. For me it is a way to take out my anger, but I'm hoping the audience thinks it's a promise of revenge. The Gamemakers might just leave my alliance alone so I can settle my score with Attica later.

When I rejoin the others, Colvin is still trying to get Clea to calm down and she cries into his shoulder. Oh how badly I want to be in Jay's arms right now. For him to tell me that everything will be all right and it was just another nightmare. My hand finds my bracelet and I grip it tight.

At last I can answer the question that's been evading me for a month. In the end, I don't want to win. Why should I? I've got no right to go home. So many kids have come into the arena and become something they're not. If not for Rotor, I'd be among them. But these two are still innocent. One of them should go home.

A hovercraft comes to retrieve the bodies, but I'm void of emotion right now. The tears will come later, but only if I'm out of this arena. And if I don't want to win, they'll never come.

"Let's get out of here," I say.

Colvin helps Clea to her feet. Gently he picks up a pack and hands it to her giving her a reassuring look. He picks up two of the packs and I take the others.

"Did you find it?" I ask Clea.

Something in her head clicks. In a flash she ducks down and picks up the katniss. "Oh, it's right here."

"Let's go then" I say. "We'll camp where I got those."

We get five steps before Clea stops. "Where's Rotor?"

"Going home," I say before walking into the night.


	3. The Survivor

**The Survivor **

Every sound leaves us on edge. My eyes are alert to any possible danger, but after the action the audience has seen I think we can expect a quite night. That is, of course, if one of the other tributes isn't tracking us currently.

I should've been there. I could've saved him if I had been there sooner. If I hadn't been so terrified, I would not have run so far away or taken so long to recover. They wouldn't have lit a fire that attracted the Pack and Rotor would be alive. But then how would I have found them? There was a good stretch of arena between me and them. Not to mention the fact they were in a completely different area than where I would've guessed. It was the fire that let me know where to find them.

Right now I can hear Jay reminding me not to play the 'what if' game. What's done is done. I can't go back and change the outcome no matter how badly I want to. All I can do is learn from my mistakes and move on. But this mistake cost someone their life. No, it cost three people their lives, one possibly two at my hands.

Hearing the small waterfall brings us to our senses. I start looking for a defensible position while Clea pulls out the water containers from all the packs and fills them. It's then that I realize that neither of them has had anything to drink since I used all the water to clean Rotor's eyes.

Once that's done I spend the next little while cleaning the blood off my hands. I can't really see it, but I can smell it as I scrub my hands under the surface. When I finish, Clea shyly hands me one of the containers.

"Thanks," I say lifting up the bottle before taking a sip. The cold water sends shivers through my body. All I want to do now is to get under a blanket and fall asleep.

"I'll watch first," offers Colvin.

Without argument Clea and I curl up and fall asleep. The rest of the night I spend somewhere between a deep sleep and awake. I'm not sure if I dream or not. All I know is that when I decide to get up it is well past dawn.

The smell of blood fills my nose. When I look at my blood-stained clothes I panic. The smell itself makes me want to throw up and I bend over retching but nothing comes up.

"Easy, easy," Colvin says placing a hand on my back.

This comforting gesture helps me get my gag reflex back in order. But I'm not calm yet, not by a long shot.

"I'm going to go clean up," I say.

"All right," he says helping me up.

He's worried about me. Why is he worried about me? Doesn't he understand that one or both of us are going to be dead by the end of this? The more he cares the more he has to lose. He should just leave it at caring for Clea.

"Thank you."

I drag myself to the lake and sit down at the shore. I strip down to my underwear thankful that they're no more immodest as some of the things I wore at the Capitol. Actually, I think they're more modest.

Pinning my clothes under some rocks to soak, I wade into the water until I'm knee deep and sit down. Undoing what hair remains in the confines of my braid, I lay back and let the water flow over me. My new scratches sting at first, but then the sensation goes away.

Nothing passes over my mind as I'm lulled back into sleep. When I wake up, I sit underneath the waterfall that feeds the lake for a few minutes before going to examine my clothes. The stains are still there, but there's nothing I can do about that. Maybe a few days soaking might do something, but I don't want to go without wearing clothes that long. Some of the audience might enjoy that, but I wouldn't.

Laying the clothes in the sun to dry, I wade back into the water. In all honesty, I want to sit and soak some more, but I need to dry up also. Sitting in the sunniest spot, I let the sun warm me up.

"Hey Falon you all rig-"

I turn to a very red faced Colvin. I don't know why but his expression amuses me.

"I covered you know," I laugh trying to hide my own embarrassment. "Besides, all of Panem has probably been watching me from the start. Doesn't matter to me if you get a look also."

This makes him even redder.

"Yes… well, back home I had the option of looking away," he spurts out. "It's the principle. I'm going to, uh," he flounders before pointing back to camp and hurries away.

My stifle laugh turns into a snort. He acted just like Rotor did during the opening ceremonies. The thought brings tears to my eyes, but I only let one fall before I wipe the rest of them away. No tears. No tears until the cameras are gone. And if I don't want to win, then they'll never come.

With my clothes dry I slip them back on and go back to camp. During my absence, Colvin and Clea have laid out all supplies from the packs. When I see the amount of food, my belly rumbles in anticipation. But then I fear what might be going through Colvin's mind. Does he want to break the alliance? His refusal to look at me and blushing a little when he does suggests that isn't what's going on in that head.

"Man the Pack at good," comments Colvin trying to get back to normal. "This can last us for days."

He's right. Most of the food is canned, that's the stuff I'll trust. I'm not so sure about the rest of the food. One of the previous Games had a tribute that poisoned the food in her allies' packs when the number remaining got low. She didn't win, one of the tributes figured it out and killed her before dying themselves, but the commentators commended her on a masterful move.

I pick up a can of beef roast and hold it up, "Did either of you call this one?"

Both shake their heads.

"Mine," I say cheerfully as I open it. After the first bite I realize how hungry I am. It takes me a moment to remember I hadn't eaten anything since I found the katniss. But this is worth the wait.

"Clea suggested we should divide the supplies so we each have a pack. That way if we get separated again we each have something."

We get straight to it. I tell them about the possibility of the open food being poisoned and we agree to toss it out. Of our new supplies we now have three sleeping bags, a sword, some rope, matches, a tarp, iodine, three more water containers, a compass, some heavy duty wire cutters, and another pair of sunglasses.

"Those are useless in the sun," says Colvin about the sunglasses. "Rotor says it made his vision worse."

"Weird. Maybe they're for nighttime?" I suggest. "Not sure if these are them, but I know nighttime glasses have been used in the Games."

"They would've let us see the Pack coming," Colvin says grimly.

I take the first pair and place it in my pack and Clea takes the other pair. We'll test them tonight and see if my theory is correct. But for now it is time for lunch.

"Thank you for saving me last night," Clea says quietly.

"Sure," I say.

"So what happened yesterday?" Colvin asks. "At the tracker tree I mean."

I let out a big breath of air and lower my can of food.

"Rotor told us how you got stung once," Clea says.

Of course he did. He would've told them after they heard the cannon. "Nothing happened. The trackers didn't spot me. I got out of the tree and bolted. Had a severe flash back that took me an hour to get out of and then went searching for you. What about you?"

Colvin and Clea look at each other, but as usual, Colvin does the talking. "We ran and waited for you about a half-hour away from that tree. Then we heard you screaming and we thought they got you."

"Must've been the girl from Ten," I conclude. "I didn't scream at all yesterday."

Colvin shakes his head. "Whatever it was called out Rotor's name and someone named Jay."

"It was really scary," said Clea. "Whatever was screaming didn't stop until the cannon fired. We thought you were dead."

"Jabberjay," I think aloud.

It had to be one of them. Those blasted birds were used a lot during the rebellion. Capable of repeating human speech, they recorded conversations of the rebels and reported them back to their masters. Well, we figured it out and the jabberjays quickly became our weapon. It's possible, I guess, that they could change the pitch of my voice to make it sound like I was in pain.

"Well," continues Colvin. "After that Rotor just shut down. We kept moving until I realized he was doing worse so we made camp. We gave him both of the blankets, but he was still ice cold so I built a fire while he slept. Got quite a scolding from him for it when he woke up and we put the fire out. Then he told us about you getting stung a few years back. After that the anthem played and we learned it wasn't you. That's when the Pack found us and well, you know the rest."

_Not all of it, _I think.

I really don't know what happened in that clearing. I don't know what I did from the time I got into that clearing until Rotor said 'dielectric'. It's nothing really, just a term we use at work. Saying a word that is out of the ordinary is one of the methods Jay's uses to get me out of my flashbacks. He must've taught Rotor in case I froze up in here and it's a good thing he did. I would've become the monster I feared I'd become in here. There was one really good reason I didn't kill the girl from 2, it was because I wanted to.

Jay fought in the rebellion alongside my father. He said that those that were out for blood were no different than the mutts made at the Capitol. They killed without question or mercy. If they were Capitol, then they were evil no matter how young. But those that killed only in defense of themselves or others, those were the ones that didn't lose themselves completely to war.

"What do we do now?" Clea asks.

Colvin scoffs. "I vote we stay here for now."

"I'm in," I say. "I could do with another nap."

The quiet settles back in. Clea tends to Colvin's arm wound. It really doesn't look that bad, but death from infection kills just as easily as bleeding out. Boron might've survived his wound if it had been cared for. Best keep an eye on that.

Everything is quiet the rest of the day. Plenty of time for the horror at what I've done to sink in. Only the knowledge that I have to be on my game for Colvin and Clea keeps me from going into a complete breakdown. I still force myself to eat, drink, and rest but it doesn't stop the images of that girl as her life slipped away or Attica's look of terror.

As the sun sets I await the anthem. There will be three faces in the sky tonight. When the anthem starts I rise up. Quintus is first. His face lingers for awhile before it is replaced by District Four. She stays up there for what feels like an eternity when Rotor's face appears.

Crossing my right arm across my chest I form a fist and place it over my heart as the sign of saying good-bye to someone you love and respect. Colvin and Clea are doing something also, but I don't turn from staring at Rotor's face until he too fades into the darkness.

_Back home with you soon,_ I think.

When our bodies get home we will be buried side-by-side in the tribute portion of the cemetery. A pair of carved rocks with our names on them with the number twenty-five indicating what year we went into the games, gravesites forty-nine and fifty.

"Either of you remember the name of District Four?" I ask as I sit down.

"Nerissa, I think," says Clea. "I don't remember her last name."

Colvin stares at the ground. "Does it help knowing her name?"

I shake my head. "No. It makes it worse, but I will not dishonor her or her family by forgetting."

"Why didn't you kill her? District Two I mean?" Colvin asks.

I could tell him, but then the Gamemakers will not like my answer. They won't like a tribute who lets others go simply because they don't want to be a blood thirsty brute.

"Probably should have," I answer. "But there's a good chance we won't see her again."

"Why?" Clea asks.

"District One wasn't with them," I say. "Three cannons fired last night and I'm willing to bet he thought that the three deaths were ours. That would mean there is only two other tributes to kill in addition to the rest of the Pack. If he acts like every other Pack member, he'll have some kind of trap set up for his allies when they return to camp. Twenty-one down, two to go and the two left each scoring lower than you. Better odds."

Colvin and Clea look at each other nervously. I'm so stupid. Here I am talking about someone's strategy to win when that problem hangs over us like a thunder storm ready to strike. Six tributes left and I'm hoping that the one that makes it out of here will be either Colvin or Clea. But at this point of the game, they'll be overly suspicious of me wondering if I'll kill them in their sleep. They may be even forming plans of their own to kill me. I hate the thought of them turning on me, but my death has to happen if one of them is to win. Maybe they'll break off the alliance and go their own way and hope the arena or one of the other tributes finishes me off for them. My pride tells me that they need me around to insure that one of them will win. I can't let them do either option yet.

My mind is searching for a way for them to want to stick with me. "What's today?"

"Wednesday, I think," says Clea.

"I may make another one of my goals in here after all," I smirk.

"To win?" Clea asks nervously.

I shake my head. "Nah, never thought I'd make it past the top ten. But I did want to be the first tribute in history of my district to make it to their nineteenth birthday. Just got to last four more days."

Clea stares at me in shock. "Your birthday is during the Hunger Games?"

I shrug as if it doesn't matter to me. "We normally celebrate it a couple months before just in case this happened," I say gesturing to the arena. "Jay doesn't know, but I found out he was saving up to buy me a cake this year."

"Who's Jay anyway?" Colvin asks.

Then I realize I've only spoken about Jay to Rotor. "My father's best-friend. He's the one that found me after the tracker jacker attack. Has been taking care of me ever since. With both of us working we get by all right. Don't go hungry most of the time. What about you? Who's your family?"

"My parents have to work all the time in the mines that we hardly see them so my Grandmother takes care of me and my brothers," says Clea.

"Where do your brother's fall?" I ask genuinely curious.

"Heath's the oldest and this was his last year in the Reaping and Damien is my twin," she responds.

Colvin takes a little longer before answering. "My parents, little brother, and I run the sweet shop in town. Look, I'm not really in the mood right now. Can we just set watch and call it a night?"

"All right," says Clea warily. It's not like Colvin to snap. But soon we have our watch assignments and fall asleep.

Unlike our first campsite, there is no need to move. No need to find a larger water source or more food. All throughout the next day we take turns resting, reshuffling the packs, and standing guard. During my watch the night before I learned that the glasses really are for night vision and I want to take them apart and examine them, but this is not the place for that sort of experimenting.

No faces in the sky tonight. Most likely we're going to have an eventful evening if the audience is bored.

Another cannon fires waking me up. Clea is right up against me sleeping soundly and Colvin is nearby with the night vision glasses.

"Pack or 9," I say. "Won't know until tomorrow night."

"Yea," Colvin sighs. "I'm falling asleep. Can we trade?"

"Sure."

We're all tense, aware that the Gamemakers probably have something special in store any time now. Knowing this we make sure our supplies are ready to go. It's mid-afternoon when Clea becomes focused on something.

"What's that?"

Off in the distance a smoke of some sort is rising above the tree line. Whatever it is, it's coming in this direction and fast.

"That's a problem," I say grabbing my pack. "Hurry up!"

The others are on their feet and we're running past the lake into unknown territory. Colvin takes the lead and we follow without argument.

_Nice of the Gamemakers to let us have a break,_ I think.

In truth I am a little grateful. They could've sent the smoke down on us at any time. Instead they waited until we had everything situated.

_They had something else interesting to watch,_ I think.

All of us are running blindly. I can yell at myself all I want to keep going, but that won't help the others. If saying something random helps me, why not them?

"Apparently nineteenth birthdays are frowned upon in this establishment!"

"You're thinking about that now?" Colvin asks.

"Later!" I shout.

Ahead of us, I hear a whistling and we're blown back through the air.

My world is disjointed. I have no idea what happened or what I'm doing here. There's a girl shaking me calling out my name, but who is she? Am I having another tracker nightmare? No, it can't be. Nothing is shimmering about what I see.

The girl's face comes into focus. Clea, her name is Clea. What is she still doing here?

"Falon come on," begs Clea shaking me awake.

"What are you doing? Get out of here!" I try to yell, but it comes out as a whisper.

Colvin yanks me to my feet, which makes me even dizzier. "You didn't for us," he shouts at me.

_Why are you doing this?_, I think. They should leave me to die. The alliance has to end sometime. The forest is on fire and will overtake us all. They can make it if they run. But they aren't moving. They have to run. Yet, they're holding their ground.

"Come on!" Colvin shouts

My head rings but I can focus enough to follow the others. Colvin and Clea run beside me but it's all I can do to keep up with them. The heat from the flames is near unbearable, but the smoke is even worse. All of us have our shirts covering our noses and mouths but even that doesn't stop us from inhaling some of the smoke.

The daze clouds my vision and branch after stinking branch cuts my face. Get angry I have to tell myself repeatedly. Anger will keep me focused forcing my fear away. All I can do is push myself forward willing not to go out like this.

There's something ahead and even amidst the noise I can still hear the buzzing of electricity and come to an abrupt halt.

"Stop!"

My cry is just in time and they turn to me wondering what is wrong. My mind and vision clear up enough for me to see the electric fence in front of us. Tossing a branch against it gives them their answer.

"There's no way out!" Clea cries.

I'm from District Five. Do the Gamemakers think a little electricity is going to stop me? I learned to bypass an electric fence when I was ten. I could've easily gotten past the fence that surrounds my home. Not that I ever tried to go under the fence at home. There were other obstacles that I didn't want to face. But I always wanted to try. Guess I got my wish…again.

I don't know why, but I think we should head right. "This way!"

The others have no choice but to follow me. I'm looking for a fence controller, a gate, anything that I might be able to work with. I can hear everyone back home shouting advice. One of them might even be able to see what I haven't yet. Then I spot it. A large section of the fence hasn't been properly grounded. This section won't have as much electricity as the rest of the fence.

I pick up another fallen tree branch and toss it against the fence just to be sure. This is our way out. In case the Gamemakers find some way to fix the problem I pull out the wire cutters so we at least can crawl through. They were such an odd item I figured they might be important. Nice to be right sometimes.

I position the cutters so they'll only be in contact with the wire for a short time. The fence may not work properly here, but it can still deliver a shock. Each time I cut it, I fake a sneeze as an excuse for my body twitching. One, two, three wires just enough to squeeze through. We toss our bags under and crawl one at a time careful not to touch the wires. There's no time to wonder at our new surroundings as we run in further.

"It stopped," says Colvin. "It's not following us."

He's right. Collapsing I try to get my breath back, but my chest hurts so much. Hacking and throwing up for the next few minutes adds to my misery. My water container is a few feet away. I only manage to get half the distance before blacking out.

My eyes flutter open and slowly they adjust to my surroundings. My body aches all over, but it's my hands and right shoulder that hurt the most. Turning my head I see Colvin watching over Clea. My brain is so foggy that it takes a moment for me to figure out something is wrong. It's the way he looks at her that tugs at me. I've seen this before. As I try to remember where, another cannon fires.

"NO! Wake up! Clea wake up," Colvin shouts.

Instantly I'm wide awake. Forcing myself to my knees is no easy task, but I must. Staggering I make it over to him and sink to my knees beside him. There's neither movement in her chest nor any other sign of life. She's so still, peaceful even and I know Clea is gone.

Colvin pulls her tightly to him and rocks her back and forth. "I promised, I promised I would take care of you," he cries. "Wake up."

Silently I say my farewells to her. Even though she was terrified, she braved this arena. Staying behind to save me instead of running to save her own life is a uncommon sight in the arena. People like her rarely come out of the arena, just like Boron.

When I place my hand on his shoulder his body tenses and begins to shake.

He needs time to say good-bye to her. He gave me space to grieve for Rotor and I think he'd want the same for Clea. But as I withdraw my hand, he grips it firmly.

"Please, please tell me how you get through this," he pleads.

I know exactly how I got through it. I accepted a month ago that Rotor and I would most likely die in here along with almost every tribute I met. I've had to accept so many deaths of those I love, but that didn't make Rotor's any easier. One can only ride the adrenaline rush so far before things catch up with you. Soon there will be no place to run or hide and I'll break down. The only reason I've gotten this far was because the last couple times I lost someone important to me, I had people fighting for me.

"One very painful step at a time," I say. "Start by letting her go."

Colvin will learn. It will be painful, but the way he talks about his friends and family I know they'll be there for him. They'll help him through these nightmares and eventually this will all have been but a bad dream.

The next few hours go by in a daze. I'm vaguely aware of Colvin and me leaning against each other for support. Both of us are so out of sorts that I don't object when he takes my hand. We walk like this until dark not sure where we are going, only that the Gamemakers wanted us to come here.

At night we stand up to await the face of our friend. The first face to appear is Attica. It explains the attack earlier this morning. With her death all reason for the audience to want both of us alive and well for our rematch disappears.

When Clea's face appears, Colvin presses his three middle fingers of his left hand to his lips and extends his hand to the sky. I feel guilty not knowing her better. I know she was scared, she had every right in the world to be, but I can't help but be relieved that she won't be plagued by the nightmares that have tortured me for so many years. The anthem ends and the sky goes dark yet again.

Both of us are so exhausted that we know neither of us will be able to keep watch. It's dangerous, I know this, but there's nothing either of us can do. What would be the point? If one of the remaining tributes found us, we'd be dead anyway. Today's events have taken their toll on both of us physically and emotionally. With this in mind, I plunge into sleep.

My night is filled with nightmares. My mother, father, those that died with him, Boron, the other tributes, Rotor, and now Clea appear. Dead, they're all dead. I want it to stop. I want all of it to stop. No more nightmares, I don't want to hear their screams anymore, don't want to see their faces staring haunted at me begging for help, accusing me of not saving them. I'm about to lose it. I'm going mad. Maybe it will be a good thing if I did, anything to stop the despair threatening to engulf me.

Suddenly my mind shifts to back home. I am up high in the branches of my tree house, safe from the misery below. My hand brushes against the wood my father collected from the abandoned parts of the district. The wind blows through my hair getting it all tangled up. My father's arms are wrapped protectively around me as we have our weekly slumber party under the stars. It's a sweet dream, one that I want to cling on to as long as I can.

The light from the dawn pulls me towards consciousness. My head rests on a chest not my pillow. So, Jay heard me again last night. One of these days I'm really going to have to learn to sleep alone. Still I'm grateful for the comfort. Last night was a bad one.

I think when I get up I'll have to insist on him taking a bath today while I'm at school. I rub one of my eyes a layer of grime coming off. Apparently I need a bath as well. It's like I haven't washed my face in a week.

_Wait a minute._

My face turns up and I see Colvin just starting to stir.

"Morning," he says groggily.

I'm certain I'm blushing. I had no idea it was him until now and there is no time to cover up my embarrassment. My response comes out in a squeaky 'hi'.

It's his turn to fumble now. "You were crying out last night and I didn't want the others to find us…"

I'm awake and recovered after the initial shock. "Well I hope you understand the amount of trouble we're in right now."

"I know, the Games."

"No, no no," I say. "With Jay and maybe your parents."

It takes a moment but he starts to chuckle at me. "Well, just wanted to have my turn making the boys envious."

Forget laughing it off, I flush five shades of red right then and there. And to make it worse, all of Panem is watching. No matter how hard I try to deliver a clever comeback, my mouth won't form the words. In the end I end up hiding my face in my jacket.

In truth Jay would let me off the hook. I had no idea it was Colvin that was holding me, my reaction is evidence to that. But if Colvin ends up the victor, he'll have to face him during the Victory Tour. I can only imagine _that_ conversation.

Jay will be up by now, the TV on to watch me. What is he thinking now? Is he silently reminding me of our agreement to not have a boyfriend until I was nineteen? If he were here right now, I'd cheekily point out that would be tomorrow.

We rummage through our packs for breakfast. I'm a little worried when I drop the can of ham chowder. Colvin retrieves it and hands it back. Then I know there's a problem when I can't even get the tab on the can.

"Problem?" Colvin asks.

"I can't grip it," I say.

Colvin takes the can, "Here, let me."

"Thanks," I say when he returns it. I have to cup the can tightly between my hands instead of using the lid as a spoon like I have been the last few days. If I can't grip a can then what does that say about my ability to toss a knife? Well, I wasn't planning on coming out of this arena anyway so I guess it doesn't matter.

All throughout breakfast Colvin makes faces at me to get me to laugh. I do both outwardly, but inside I'm crying. How much longer are we allowed to keep this going? Is any of it real on his part? If it is, then it will only make it worse for both of us. But why is it that I don't care?

I know why. It's one of the reasons I agreed to team up with him in the first place. He reminds me of Boron.

The smell from the forest drives us further into the fenced in area. My right side hurts so much that I carry my pack on my left shoulder only. I'm not the only one with injuries. Colvin has a few burns on his arms and some scratches as well. Often I worry about the cut Quintus gave him, but Clea did such a good job that it might not be a problem anymore.

An ominous feeling fills the air as we pass house after house. Everywhere around us looks very much like a regular district. But it's empty.

"Look at this," Colvin says. "It looks like a Justice Building."

And then I know where I am. I bite my tongue so not to swear out loud. Voting us in, the costumes, and our surroundings... we've been reenacting the rebellion. The Capitol is driving the point home that the rebellion was our choice. And if that's true then I know exactly where we are playing. This is District Thirteen.

Sure enough there is the building I'd know anywhere. This is the famous District Thirteen Justice Building. Famous since it is one of the only structures still standing in that district. Any time there is news regarding the graphite mines here, the reporter always stands on the steps of the Justice Building.

_So, I was right, _I think.

Colvin looks at me, "You don't suppose…"

"We're in District Thirteen?" I finish for him. "Not quite, it's a replica."

He stares at me and I'm pretty sure the cameras are as well. What else do they have to show right now with the pool down to four?

"Whenever there's a report on the TV about District Thirteen, the reporter is always wearing a special suit so they don't inhale the toxins left over from the bombs."

I'm still not making any sense to him.

"You're alive right now aren't you? No smoke, no toxins, therefore not the real District Thirteen. Just a well designed, fully loaded arena."

Colvin continues to stare blankly at me, but it has turned more into astonishment.

But then I realize my mistake. I've figured it out and dismissed it too quickly. This was supposed to unnerve us for the final showdown, whatever the Gamemakers have decided for that. I'm not even sure we were supposed to get past the fence.

"Look, it doesn't matter right now, all right. What matters are the two remaining tributes who really want our blood so they can go home. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to use the little girl's room and there's a chance I might actually get to use a toilet in there."

I'm astonished to actually find a bathroom. They even have soap. None of the faucets work, so I use a little bit of water from my drinking supplies to wash my hands. When I see my face in the mirror I start. Is that really me?

My hair is a mess burned in spots and tangled in others. I wince when I see the impressive bruise on my shoulder that I probably earned from the explosion yesterday. No wonder that side has hurt all day. Parts of my neck are burned as well, but all of this is nothing compared to my face. Until now, I thought I was putting on a brave face. I never thought I looked this dead.

My thoughts turn to home. So many people in my district bear the scars of the rebellion. A lost limb, ugly burns and scars, and eyes haunted at the memories. I'm not the only one that suffers from nightmares. It's probably the same in all the districts. But the thing is we all survived. We may not be living lives to the fullest, but the fact that we keep going on proves that the Capitol can't really beat us.

There is no denying the rebels did what they thought was right. I could never fault them for that. Not now and not ever. If this is the price we have to pay then so be it. If the districts rebelled before there were any Hunger Games, then they will certainly rebel again. You can only push a person so far before they fight back. I just hope I'm alive to see it.

My mind races. To live means that I have to win the games, to hope that Colvin dies in here. I don't want that. Then what do I want?

In the end what I really want is just to be me by the end of this thing no matter the outcome. I want to live the life of a rebel, defiant right until the bitter end.

I hear Colvin's muffled voice on the other side of the door asking me if I'm all right. He's keeping his distance this time not risking another embarrassing episode like the one from the lake. The thought brings a smile to my face and I see it in the mirror. There, that's better.

"And what's got you in such a good mood?" Colvin asks when I join him.

"I just got a look at myself in the mirror," I say. "I haven't been this dirty in years. I love it!"

Colvin is staring at me like I hit my head or something. "Do the boys back home know you're like this?"  
"That I can get just as messy as the rest of them? Oh sure. To be honest I think the only time they realize I'm a girl is when I show up in a dress on Reaping Day."

He turns away angrily. What for? I'm just joking around, but he's upset by it.

"What?" I ask.

He turns back to me and I'm unnerved by the amount of anger flashing in his eyes. "Tell me something. How does your district vote someone like you in here? And I don't believe that bull that you are a logical choice."

My smile fades. I wanted an opportunity to be defiant and now I have one. What does it matter if the Capitol knows or not. It's done. I smile a little before answering. "It's simple really, I volunteered."

His eyes shoot open in astonishment. "What?"

"I volunteered. Just before the vote I went into their meeting, nominated myself as tribute, had some… choice words for them to ensure they would vote for me, and left."

"Why?" his question come out in a whisper.

"You're complaining?" I ask with the same playfulness the night the parachute got stuck in the tree.

It happens so quickly that I don't even see it coming. One minute I'm making a joke and the next second I feel his lips against mine. My brain goes fuzzy and a warm feeling passes through me as I lean into him.

Colvin pulls away from me. Moving a lose strand of hair from my face he smiles. "I might've tried harder to win if I knew I had someone like you at home waiting for me."

_ "Now I really have to come back."_

Boron's last words to me come back in a flash. My pain must show on my face because Colvin's eyes are filled with concern.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked first," he says.

"Hey I kissed you back. It's just, a friend of mine said something similar before going to the Games two years ago. He never came back." I push my emotions away. "Look, let's just get out here. The others might be lured here, and I'm in no condition to face them today."

Colvin looks into my eyes. "I'm not ready to say good-bye yet anyway."

I smile. "Me either."

Nothing happens all day today, no faces in the sky. Something tells me they'll have something big planned tomorrow. Best to get some food and a few hours of sleep while we can.

All during my watch I think about how these Games will end. There can only be one victor. There are so many possible outcomes. District One could find us and kill us both and hunt down Nine or we all give each other fatal injuries and Nine goes home. Then there's the possibility that one of us gets killed along with the attacker and the other left to face off the last remaining tribute.

But there's another outcome that I don't like. What happens if it comes down to just Colvin and me? There are so many scenarios to that one and I need to decide what I'll do if that happens.

When it's time to switch I make a decision. If it really comes down to the two of us, I vote Colvin as the victor. I volunteered to be in here knowing full well the consequences. I saw myself in here, I can see myself out. All I hope is that I can stick to this plan.

The next morning, I'm up with the sun. Colvin held me again last night, this time with my permission. He's up against a tree keeping guard and smiles when he sees my eyes. A flood of mad giddiness floods into me. And then I realize what day it is.

"Ha! New record!"

Colvin is laughing, we've both lost all of our senses in here. "All right, it's your birthday. What do you want to do?"

"I don't suppose there's a can of cake anywhere," I say.

"No, I don't think so," Colvin laughs.

I sigh like it's the most disappointing thing in the world. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make due."

Pulling out a can of salmon I stare at it for a moment. Nerissa was from District Four, fishing. This will be one type of food I will never eat. Not when I took their tribute away.

"Do you need me to open that?" Colvin asks.

"Not this one," I say putting it off to the side. "You can have it if you want. I think I'll have that chicken alfredo that's somewhere in here. Don't know what that is, but sounds tasty."

In a moment I've found it. "Ah ha."

My grip is no better today and Colvin has to open my breakfast for me again. Really it's not a bad. Tossing all manners aside I lick the last of the sauce out of the can.

Just then the sky gets blacker. Sure the Gamemakers can change the light in the sky all they want, but why? We're both alert and on our feet looking for the sight of the attack. Nearby I hear the whistling sound I remember hearing a couple days ago.

"Get down!"

I'm not here. I am back in the abandoned part of my district enjoying lunch with my father. Everything seemed peaceful until someone yells a warning call. Instantly I feel my father's arms wrapping tightly around me as he hurls us both to the ground to protect me.

This flashes through my mind just as Colvin throws himself over me to protect me from the blast.

No, not again. My mind thrashes around desperate to come back to the present.

"Colvin?"

"I'm… all right," he says gritting his teeth. "Come on."

We're both on our feet and looking around at the devastation the fire bomb caused. The houses all around us are a pile of flaming rocks.

_Stupid!_

Now I understand what's kept the Gamemakers waiting. Why we got a breather yesterday. It wasn't for the drama between Colvin and me, but this. Not only is it my birthday, it's the anniversary of the annihilation of Thirteen and the end of the rebellion. Twenty-five years later, they're bombing it all over again.

"Run!" Colvin shouts.

Horrible screams, mostly from children, fill the air. Am I imagining them, or is it more jabber jays? I get to feel and hear all the terror that those in District Thirteen must've felt that day. It's just as bad as the tracker attack and I feel myself freezing up again.

More and more bombs explode turning the homes into nothing. Colvin keeps pushing me forward. But where to? There will be no place to run in here, Thirteen was obliterated. Wait, not all of it.

"Justice Building!" I shout.

"Why there?" he asks as we're running past buildings and debris.

"Because it still stands in the real Thirteen!"

We're running hard, urging the other forward trying to escape the smoke and fumes. Flying rock showers us and I feel it most on my shoulder. Only my desire not to give the Capitol the satisfaction of my screams do I not cry out.

Burning, everything is burning.

We're in the square and at last I can see the building. Hope flares within me that we might just make it out of this yet. But that hope quickly changes to terror. In a heartbeat my terror turns into one desperate hope that he won't be harmed and I shove Colvin away from me.

I get one last look at him before a building collapses and buries me.

"FALON!"

A boy screams out a name, but that's not who's making the screams that rend the air. It's a jabberjay sent in to torment those that couldn't help. In truth, the girl that name belongs to is a few miles away catching her breath scribbling equations in the dirt, but the highlights of the game don't show that until after the cannon fires.

The show continues following an alliance made up of the male tribute from 5 and both from 12. The tribute from 5 is blind, sick, and in shock. The male tribute from 12, gaze hardening to hold back sorrow, leads the two younger ones ahead. The female tribute weeps quietly as they continue on through the woods.

Rotor, that's his name, is freezing cold and getting worse forcing the others to stop and make camp. Despite two blankets that reflect body heat, he still shaking, but asleep. The other two build a fire to keep him warm and it seems to be doing the trick. He's out for a few hours when the sky starts to go dark.

"Are you mad? No fires!" he scolds the others. "Do you want to let every tribute in the arena know where you are?"

"You were freezing," says Clea stunned at his reaction.

Despite his blindness he still is able to have a commanding presence. "Well unless every tribute drops dead in the next day or two, I'm done. No sense risking your lives to make me comfortable. You'd waste what she did today."

Immediately the others put out the fire and Rotor seems to relax a bit.

"Never thought she'd go like that," says Colvin.

Rotor stares at the remains of the fire. "It's ironic that's for sure."

Of course this statement begs an explanation. The show skims over the conversation enough for the audience to remember the particulars. There was a tracker attack, fifteen dead, one survivor.

The Capitol seal appears and the tributes from 12 stand while Rotor manages only to sit up. The anthem starts and there's a face in the sky, but it's the wrong face.

"That's not her," Clea whispers.

"What?"

Clea claps her hands to her mouth. "Rotor, it's the girl from District 10. Falon is alive!"

"Then, where is she?" asks Colvin. "She said she'd catch up when it was safe."

There's a spark of hope on Rotor's face. "If she's not dead, she's coming. Maybe she saw the smoke from the fire. Just wait, give it a few hours and she'll come crashing into camp."

"You seem so sure," Colvin says skeptically.

"She promised," Rotor replies angrily. "Everyone in Five knows she keeps her word."

The camera shows the Pack of tributes from Districts Two and Four inching closer to the camp ready to strike.

"One each," the girl from 4 says.

"Attica, you take the younger boy I've got him," says Quintus referring to Colvin.

"What?" she protests. "Look at him, he's hardly a challenge. Let Nerissa take him."

Nerissa starts to protest, but Quintus silences her with a look.

"I'll let you have the vixen when we find her," Quitntus responds.

A sly smile creeps on Attica's face. "Done. No way a girl from 5 gets a nine because she impressed the Gamemakers with skill."

"Probably batted those pretty little eyes at the Gamemakers or something," adds Nerissa.

The three laugh quietly before the signal passes between them to move. Together they step out alarming the other alliance.

"Evening," Attica says before throwing her knife into Rotor.

Clea shrieks when Rotor slumps to the ground.

"Run! Clea run!" Colvin yells picking her up and pushing her away.

Her reaction is delayed but she's on her feet and running. Colvin does everything he can to fend off the other two, but Nerissa breaks away and chases after Clea. Quintus manages to pin his prey to the ground.

"We're going to wait for the cannon, before I finish you off."

Defiance. That's the expression on Colvin's face as he struggles to get free. When the cannon does go off he goes into a rage. Quintus is hurled off of him and gets the fight for his life.

The audience shouts encouragement to the two fighters egging them on as if this is the first time they saw the fight. The screen cuts to another tribute and there are cries of outrage to go back to the fight, until they see who's coming and erupt in insane cheers. Me. They're cheering for me.

Now comes one of the parts I've been waiting for. I literally don't know what happened in that clearing. No matter how many times I wrack my brain for the information, I just can't. But soon I will have my answer. Nerissa is dead quickly and Clea is hurrying to safety which brings a round of thunderous applause that I ignore.

Attica is shrugging her shoulders and off screen I'm holding my breath. I give out a battle cry the likes I have never heard from anyone or anything. All four in the clearing stare at me as I go straight for Attica. I'm yelling at her as I slam her hard against a tree, placing my knife against her throat.

"Quintus! Nerissa!" she shouts.

But they can't help her, no one can. Nerissa is dead and Quintus, taken down in a moment of distraction by Colvin, is on the ground bleeding out. So, Colvin killed him and not me. Somehow I don't think the knowledge helps any.

Rotor is shown struggling to his feet watching in horror. He can't see Attica's face, but he can see mine insane and furious. Or he guessed. He had to have guessed, he was blind.

"Falon stop!" Rotor shouts at me, but I don't hear him. His head whips from one side to the other before he shouts out, "Dielectric!"

The camera zooms in on me as I look over at Rotor who is holding his breath. I let the girl go and she runs away. Some of the audience is displeased at the missed opportunity for more blood, but others are hushing them because of what comes next. I get to see my farewell to Rotor in full ignoring the sobs coming from the crowd. They don't care about Rotor. They don't care about any of the twenty-three dead tributes. They haven't cared about any of the six-hundred kids that have gone into these arenas.

_Don't get angry. _I promised Rotor I wouldn't lose it like that again. Besides, there is so much more at stake than my own life.

The highlights continue. Attica's death is shown briefly. Just as I thought, Blaze from District One set a trap and she walked right into it dying the next day. Not as quick as it should've been, but not as slow as Boron's death not by a long shot.

Multiple whistles and cat-calls issue from all over when I wash up in the lake. Laughter when Colvin walks in on me. Was it really so short a time ago this happened?

I half hoped I would hear the conversation between Colvin and Clea while I was gone. I stayed away so long to give them time to discuss things, that and I wanted to be alone. But they don't show it and speed ahead to showing us and the other two scrambling around the woods as the Capitol planes flush us out from the woods and into the confines of the fence. I get to have my joke about nineteenth birthdays and the audience laughs. When the explosion hit, both Colvin and Clea are in a state of shock. Clea is the first to scramble over to me and I hear the absolute terror in her voice for me to wake up. Her hysteria caused her to inhale too much of the toxins. That's probably what killed her later.

As for the other tributes, they were flushed out of the woods and into Thirteen as well. Blaze had it easy, finding an open gate to get through. District Nine, Miller, climbed a tree that had a branch hanging over the fence. The drop was too long and it ended up breaking both of his legs.

Clea's death is shorter. I don't even think she felt anything, just quietly slipped into unconsciousness. But the highlights are focused on the growing bond between Colvin and me. How at the start of the night we were separated by a few feet, but ended up in each other's arms. For a minute, the camera focuses on my restlessness in sleep and Colvin's constant worried looks. Sighs emanate from the Capitolists when he picks me up and slowly my body stops shaking. I actually look peaceful.

When I wake up there's another round of laughter at my reaction. Afterwards the camera follows us to the Justice building. The film makes it look like I didn't figure it out in two seconds, but rather several minutes of deep thinking. I have an agreement with President Galba, he doesn't harm Rotor, Colvin, or Clea's families and I keep my mouth shut about how easily I caught onto their game.

"_History is written by the Victors," he told me. "And the Capitol is always the Victor."_

"Tell me something," Colvin growls. "How does your district vote someone like you in here? And I don't believe that bull that you are a logical choice."

"It's simple really, I volunteered."

Those that are talking are quickly hushed. They're just getting to the best part of the whole games. There's some kind of music, I think is supposed to be romantic playing and when we kissed, I can't hear a single note as shouts of 'finally' and the like overtake the crowd. Colvin admits he would've tried harder if I was waiting back home in Twelve and not in the arena with him.

I did kiss him back, but not like I did Boron which is a relief. Boron's kiss was one I wanted to give for awhile fueled by years of friendship, but held back until then because of my agreement with Jay. It wasn't because Jay was being controlling, he wanted to protect me from getting too attached to someone that could end up in the games. I'm not sure about Colvin's yet, sure I liked him, but was it in the heat of the moment or did I actually have feelings for him? Does it matter? I'll never see him again. But these will be the kisses I think about until other nightmares are over.

All that's left now is the finale. No joking around showed this time. The show is not focused on us, but the planes in route to the arena. Someone is doing a voiceover talking the same trash every district citizen has heard for twenty-five years about the rebellion. As punishment for inciting the rebellion, District 13 would pay the ultimate price. Cut to the four tributes waking up, a bomb going off near each of us.

Shots switch from all of us running in panic to aerial views of the total destruction of this portion of the arena. Miller didn't stand a chance. He gets a close up as his pupils shrink to a size of a pin before blowing up into a million pieces. His family has nothing to bury, not even his token. I understand the Capitol is giving his family some sort of monetary compensation. Like that will make up for it or something.

Blaze runs blindly around, but manages to stay alive. I notice they were herding him towards us. This may be the Capitol's moment, but they still prefer the tributes to kill each other.

The last of my questions is about to be explained. I know Colvin started to say my name just as the building collapsed on me. But that is the last memory I have from the arena. The next one I have period is waking up in the hospital, tubes and other devices connected to my body monitoring my heart rate, brain activity, and other functions. I'm told that there almost wasn't a victor this year. Only the tracker device in my arm let the Gamemakers know I was somehow alive. In the end, I outlasted the others.

Immediately after the rocks buried me, Colvin screams my name over and over as he tries to find me in the ruble. The bombing becomes less frequent as Blaze nears and stops all together when it's clear he sees Colvin. There's a look of shocked relief on Blaze's face at the sight of a tribute. It's not the sick look of someone about to enjoy what they're about to do, but rather one of hope. All he has to do to go home is just kill one more tribute and he can get out of this hell.

Blaze is a trained fighter, but injured from several days in the arena. Even still, Colvin doesn't even see him coming and is dead in less than a minute. Blaze looks at the sky waiting for the blast of the horns and the cheering crowd announcing his victory. But there are no trumpets, no cheering crowd, just silence and a burning district.

I'm still alive somewhere beneath the ruble. No cameras can show my face, only the pile of rock I'm under. What it must've been like for those back home. I am alive, but for how much longer? Am I suffering? Am I calling out anyone's name? Begging for help?

Night comes and there are two faces in the sky. Blaze knows there is still one more tribute in the arena. Or does he? The next two days there are no cannons, no faces in the sky, and no sign of life from the pile of rocks. Blaze screams out 'where are you' as he searches for me. Only the wind answers him and eventually he went mad. In the end, he took his own life. If he had just waited just a few more hours, he would've been the victor.

Why am I still alive? It was never my intention to be alive after the games. I was supposed to go home in a box to be mourned by my district and placed in a grave beside Rotor and near Boron. Honored for my courage and bravery for figuring out the Capitol's game, volunteering to be tribute, and how I conducted myself in the arena. Defiant to the end. Or at the very least be just another dead tribute.

But history is written by the victors.

As soon as Blaze's cannon fired, his body is lifted out of the arena. Another hovercraft lands and white uniformed Peacekeepers with heavy duty equipment exit and head straight for me to dig me out. The whole process took a couple hours, but is showed in a few short minutes.

"We found her!"

"Get the stretcher! Get the stretcher."

More orders are called out but I can't hear them over the roaring crowd. To them, I owe every Capitol citizen my life. Just as they believe the districts owe the Capitol for all they have. Gently I'm lifted out of my stone prison, still very much unconscious. Gripped tightly in my hand is an unraveled bracelet. Thinking it was the end, I had pulled it out while running, something to hold me together for the final moments of my life.

That's it. That's all there is to the story of what happened in the arena. For the second time in my life I should've died with the others, but come out the sole survivor who didn't want to survive. The Victor.

I start as the anthem begins. The volume is cranked up loud that everyone can hear it play over the roaring crowed. Apparently this time it's a sing-a-long. At home I would be scoffing the ridiculousness of it all. This is way too staged. The cameras are filtering though the crowd as they mouth the words or sing them out triumphantly. What's worse, they show different shots of happy looking district citizens doing the same. I bet there are guns pointed at each and every one of them.

The cameras will be on me any moment and I'll have to participate. Or do I? I may now be the Capitol's poster child, but I'm still a proud citizen of District Five. Besides, I'm not done being startled at the volume of the anthem.

Near the end of the anthem the voice over comes back with some hoopla about how Panem once again raises triumphant. The Dark Days must never be repeated again. More lies.

At the end, President Galba takes the stage. A young girl walks with him holding a plush cushion with a beautiful golden crown. I want to stand back straight and my eyes defiant and proud. But I'm out of any fire to fight back. Galba has started a new game and I'm being forced to play along. May the districts and my lost loved ones forgive me.

I remember my part and make a graceful curtsy to the floor. The crowd is going insane as Galba places the crown on my head. My eyes are vacant of any emotion and I rise without any assistance. He blinks surprise, but that is the only emotion he betrays. I crease my eyebrows in confusion silently asking him if I did something wrong. Galba hides his response behind an unreadable mask.

Then I remember that the President was going to lift me from the ground. I assume it was to represent the Capitol will raise the districts from the ground and be forgiving once more. But then I have been rather forgetful lately. I did have a building fall on me after all.

Still he makes the most of it and kisses me on the cheek and raises my hand high.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, I give you the Victor of the 1st Quarter Quell. Falon Dawnson."

The loudest applause of the night feels like it will knock me off my feet. I summon a smile and I can tell from the screen off to the side that it's a normal every day smile. I forget how to smile any other way. After paying my respects to the audience I get pulled off stage.

Anna is at my side immediately. "That was splendid dear. Now we're off to a party and then you can rest."

"My head hurts," I whimper. It's true enough, but it also serves as an excuse as to why I forgot to let the President lift me from the ground. No, I wish that was the case. I really did forget. Plain and simple.

"Oh, your medicine. Um," she scrambles around her very large purse and pulls out the pills I've been on ever since I woke up. A glass of water is brought to me and I gulp that down with the pills. I feel someone's eyes on me but don't dare try to figure out who they belong to.

"There now, you'll be fine soon enough," Anna assures me with a pat on my back.

We're all taken to the President's Mansion for a party and I'm surprised it's a birthday party. A large banner with 'Happy 19th Birthday Falon' hangs over the largest table of food I've seen in my life. But I'm not hungry.

Everyone wants to meet me, shake my hand, get a picture with me, wish me a very happy birthday and hope there are many to come so they can help me celebrate. They will, after all, be in the Capitol each year.

Some tell me how cruel my district must be to send such a charming young lady in that horrible place and then forced to return to them. It is just unbearable to think of. Some of this talk is staged by the President's people, but other citizens overhear them and are agreeing adamantly that I do not deserve such a fate.

"The games are all about forgiveness," I say. "If the Capitol can be forgiving to the districts for the rebellion, then who am I to deny forgiveness to District 5?"

This earns me the admiration of everyone in the room. A long time passes and at last it's over and Anna leads me back to our apartments. I get maybe five steps in when I pause. Anna turns to me.

"Down the hall and it's the first room on the left."

How stupid I feel for not remembering which prison cell is mine. Inside everything is laid out for me. A small dinner is first so I have something in my stomach when I take my pills. The towel next to this is to remind me to shower. The settings are all done. All I have to do there is hit the start button.

Afterwards I stare into the mirror. Like that day in the Justice Building, I look dead. Of the injuries I've sustained over my life, no physical scars remain. Just smooth perfect skin and I feel my mind is playing tricks on me. I was in the Hunger Games, I know this. So how is it that I don't have as much as a scratch on me?

I'm not sure how long I spend staring at myself, only that I stopped and changed into my pajamas. For an hour I stare up at the ceiling wishing I could see the stars. So, Colvin really did care about me and I know I felt the same about him. His desperate cries to find me will always be with me.

This is what happened after the arena. I'm not sure how many days passed between the time they pulled me out of the arena and when I woke up. When I did, I stared at the ceiling unsure of where I was. The small things clicked first that I was in a room without windows, I was in a bed, and that I was restrained.

Once I realized that Colvin was dead, that I was the Victor, I started screaming. The doctors had no choice but to knock me out again and the next time I woke up I had to accept my victory. The next few days are a blur.

The day before the recap for the games, President Galba came to have a chat with me. I know I wasn't all there, but I understood enough of the conversation. He treated me like a simpleton and I guess I am one now.

He asked me why I volunteered. I gave some highly emotional excuse that the reason I volunteered was arena assisted suicide. How the tracker nightmares were driving me to insanity and couldn't take it anymore, but masked my desire for death behind nobility. My initial reaction to learning I was the victor helped convince Galba, but told me I had several lives to protect and my suicide would result in the deaths of every single one.

All that's left to do now is an interview with Marlin and go home to keep my end of the bargain. Morning comes quicker than I'd like it to and I am whisked through my morning routine and thrown to my prep team. They yammer on about how I'm the brightest star in the Capitol. Before I know it I'm in a blue dress, shoulders still showing, a single strap that looks like a lightning bolt holding everything up.

Anna brings me into the sitting room where the camera crew is ready. The preps do some final touch ups and I'm given more pills. Unlike other years, this interview won't be done live. There are a couple doctors behind the camera crew ready to come in if I start spacing out again.

Marlin welcomes me to the show and I tell him how delighted I am to be with him. We have a bit of banter going back and forth and then on to the questions about the arena.

"So Falon, whose idea was it to form your alliance?"

"The idea to team up with Rotor, my district partner, was mine. Colvin gets all the credit for forming the alliance with us."

"Can you tell us about why you teamed up?" Merlin asks.

Why did we team up? I remember Colvin saying something about pooling sponsors. But was it more than that for me?

"It increased the odds of survival," I say finally. "The pack that forms every year seems to do all right for themselves and we wanted to see if it would work for us as well."

We move on to other things like injuries in the arena, the tracker nest that I so skillfully avoided, my excellent kill of Nerissa and rescue of Clea. I'm surprised he skipped over me letting Attica go. I felt certain that would be a question brought up, but we move quickly to the burning forest and getting to the fence.

"How did you figure out that section was turned off?" Marlin asks.

That much I do remember and give a nervous laugh. "Oh trust me it was on, although not as powerful in that area. Good thing I grew up in District 5 otherwise I would've never noticed."

Marlin smiles at me. "Do you go outside your district often?"

I shake my head. "My father taught me that just because you have the ability to do something doesn't mean you should. Until the games, I've never left my district. And I think it's safe to say any curiosity that I might've had on what's on the other side of the fence was satisfied in the arena."

People off camera laugh and I smile sheepishly.

"Now Falon, let's talk about when you announced you volunteered. Tell me, what made you want to do that?"

I freeze. What is he doing? This was a topic I was told was completely off limits. I look to Anna, the only other person who knows about the deal, and she is equally frightened. I know why I volunteered, really volunteered, and I know the excuse that I gave to President Galba. Both of which will not be acceptable and will get someone killed.

What was it that Galba said to me then? Something about not wanting people to volunteer to go into the arena for that reason. The reason was to get killed so maybe a different excuse might be acceptable.

A doctor is in front of me bringing my focus back to the present. I spaced out again.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "What was the question again?"

Marlin repeats himself and then signals the camera to start rolling again.

"For the honor of it all," I reply. "It was the Quarter Quell. If anything that would make me immortal, it would be done in these games. No matter how many games there are, whether I lived or died, a Quell will be revisited every twenty-five years. I would be remembered."

"It certainly captivated Colvin's interest in you," says Marlin impressed. "I'm willing to bet there were many men wanting to be Colvin in that moment. Anyone back home that would be particularly jealous?"

_Boron._

I sigh. "No."

"Really? I'd expect a beautiful girl, such as yourself, to have many admirers."

"Boron would've been jealous," I whisper. "He was my best friend until he became a tribute in the games two years ago. The boys back home have been gentlemanly enough to give me some space since then."

My mind is slipping again, but I force myself to stay in the present. Marlin looks apologetic and quickly changes the subject.

"Now for the grand finale of the games. What was going through your mind when you were under all that rock? Did you think that was going to be the end?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you," I say. "I heard the bomb go off, saw Colvin, and then nothing. The next thing I know I'm waking up in the hospital. Until last night, I had no idea what happened or how I got out of there."

"Asleep that whole time?"

"Anticlimactic isn't it?" I tease but really I want to cry.

More quiet laughter.

Marlin and I exchange a few random comments, nothing of consequence, and he ends the show. With a hug and a kiss, Marlin wishes me well and says he looks forward to seeing me again in a few months. Then he and the camera crew are off to edit the content. The whole of the interview took an hour and a half more than planned thanks to my blackouts throughout the filming, but it will be shrunk to the appropriate length.

In my room Anna sneaks in and closes the door.

"I didn't lead into that question did I?" I ask.

"No dear," she answers. "No you are not to blame. You did very well under the circumstances. Now come on, we've got a train to catch. You're going home."

_Home?_ Every tribute goes home. That's what I told Rotor. Except I'm not going home like he is, I get to be the first tribute in Five to come home alive.

Anna shakes me awake. "We're almost there."

I look into the face of a woman I hardly know, but have relied upon completely these past several days. It feels wrong somehow, but I don't know why. Maybe when I can think clearly I'll figure that out.

Slowly I rise out of bed. There are no stylists and no prep team this time. My appearance in front of my district is for me to decide. My fingers brush along the different outfits but stops on a green dress, my mother's dress. Somehow it seems fitting.

After dressing I press my hand to the device that untangles my hair that I've loved playing with since the first train. It's childish, but I really want one. Brushing my hair, I mean really getting all the tangles out, is painful and time consuming, but this thing takes care of it in just a few seconds. Oh the stupid things that keep my mind occupied.

"Are you sure you don't want any makeup?" Anna asks.

As I stare at the mirror I know that I look like myself. "Yes I'm sure."

"Let's get some breakfast into you then," Anna smiles.

Food, pills, and staring out the window, that's my routine. But as I look outside and start seeing the familiar landscape my heart starts to pound. The train slows as we pass under the district fence. I know this place.

There are people waiting outside cheering, waiving, and smiling as the train pulls up. It's so different from the first train I got off where those cheering for my arrival secretly wanting my blood. This, this is something else entirely. The first homecoming in Five.

Sure there are several of the Capitol media, but I start picking out faces I know. Classmates, people I work with at the plant, I even see my next door neighbor as he holds up his little girl so she can see me better. But there's a few faces I don't see yet.

There's a sweet indulgent look on Anna's face. "Get out of here."

It's hard to describe what I'm feeling at this moment. My steps start out slow but then I run straight for the door. An attendant smiles at me. "Welcome home, Miss Dawnson."

"Thank you," I say.

The door opens and at first I'm blinded by the sunlight. Cameras flash like crazy and thunderous applause greets me as I see face after face smiling, crying, laughing.

"Out of my way!"

I know that voice. "Jay!"

Then I see him and a flood of happiness fills me. He pushes his way through and I rush straight for him. I know as soon as I feel his arms around me that I've stopped dreaming. Many times he has hugged me to comfort me, but this one feels different. The hug feels like the one my father gave me when I had disappeared for several hours after school with Boron and the gang. It's relief that I'm safe and with him again.

My breath freezes when I turn to find Rotor's mother. I expect her to be angry at my failure, but there is only sad gratitude on her face as she hugs me.

"Well done," she says gently. Her husband also hugs me and so do Rotor's younger brother and sister.

As they let go I turn to see the Welkins. Rose's hug is warm and I feel as if my own mother is holding me once more as Elian hugs me from behind. When they let go, Gray stares at me.

"Don't you ever do anything like that again," he says.

I smile brightly, "I'm out of the reaping for life now you know."

"Crazy girl," he shakes his head before hugging me.

I start as Cody, Kyle, and the rest of the gang rush up and lift me up high.

"Dawnson! Dawnson!" Someone shouts and more join in until everyone in the area is chanting my name.

Later, when all the cameras were gone, the Norths, Jay, and I visited the graveyard where two freshly filled-in graves lay side-by-side. Under the first I know rests Rotor's body. The other was supposed to be mine, but will lay empty for many years to come. I don't care what honors others want to bestow on me. When I die I want it to be right there next to Rotor.

A month passes before I figure something out. The tracker jackers should've killed everyone that day four years ago, but it didn't. The youngest of them all survived because one man refused to give in and let his daughter die. He defied those mutts and won. In the arena, they bombed District 13 to the ground, destroying all hope of the rebellion and they shortly surrendered thereafter. They had the tributes recreate the rebellion, but they made a mistake. They let one live. Even if it was with the Capitol's help, I survived where I shouldn't have.

Without realizing it, I've become a symbol of hope in the district. Hope that one day the districts will rise up again. We will survive and become victors. But for now we must wait until the timing is right. When that happens all that will be needed is a spark that outshines the darkness.


End file.
